{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8646/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8646","id":"gutenberg_8646","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8646","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Early Modern (c. 1450-1750)","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Civil society -- History","Civilization -- History"],"text":"Produced by Stan Goodman, William Craig, Charles Franks\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\nThis is an authorized facsimile of the original book, and was produced in\n1971 by microfilm-xerography by University Microfilms, A Xerox Company, Ann\nArbor, Michigan, U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\nAN ESSAY on the HISTORY OF CIVIL SOCIETY.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBY ADAM FERGUSON, L. L. D.\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPART I. OF THE GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF HUMAN NATURE.\n\nSECTION I. Of the question relating to the State of Nature\n\nSECTION II. Of the principles of Self Preservation\n\nSECTION III. Of the principles of Union among Mankind\n\nSECTION IV. Of the principles of War and Dissention\n\nSECTION V. Of Intellectual Powers\n\nSECTION VI. Of Moral Sentiment\n\nSECTION VII. Of Happiness\n\nSECTION VIII. The same subject continued\n\nSECTION IX. Of National Felicity\n\nSECTION X. The same subject continued\n\nPART II. OF THE HISTORY OF RUDE NATIONS.\n\nSECTION I. Of the informations on this subject, which are derived from\nAntiquity\n\nSECTION II. Of Rude Nations prior to the Establishment of Property\n\nSECTION III. Of rude Nations, under the impressions of Property and\nInterest\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPART III. OF THE HISTORY OF POLICY AND ARTS.\n\nSECTION I. Of the Influences of Climate and Situation\n\nSECTION II. The History of Political Establishments\n\nSECTION III. Of National Objects in general, and of Establishments and\nManners relating to them\n\nSECTION IV. Of Population and Wealth\n\nSECTION V. Of National Defence and Conquest\n\nSECTION VI. Of Civil Liberty\n\nSECTION VII. Of the History of Arts\n\nSECTION VIII. Of the History of Literature\n\nPART IV. OF CONSEQUENCES THAT RESULT FROM THE ADVANCEMENT OF CIVIL AND\nCOMMERCIAL ARTS.\n\nSECTION I. Of the Separation of Arts and Professions\n\nSECTION II. Of the Subordination consequent to the Separation of Arts and\nProfessions\n\nSECTION III. Of the Manners of Polished and Commercial Nations\n\nSECTION IV. The same subject continued\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPART V. OF THE DECLINE OF NATIONS.\n\nSECTION I. Of supposed National Eminence, and of the Vicissitudes of Human\nAffairs\n\nSECTION II. Of the Temporary Efforts and Relaxations of the National Spirit\n\nSECTION III. Of Relaxations in the National Spirit incident to Polished\nNations\n\nSECTION IV. The same subject continued\n\nSECTION V. Of National Waste\n\nPART VI. OF CORRUPTION AND POLITICAL SLAVERY.\n\nSECTION I. Of corruption in general\n\nSECTION II. Of Luxury\n\nSECTION III. Of the Corruption incident to Polished Nations\n\nSECTION IV. The same subject continued\n\nSECTION V. Of Corruption, as it tends to Political Slavery\n\nSECTION VI. Of the Progress and Termination of Despotism\n\nAN ESSAY\n\nON THE\n\nHISTORY OF CIVIL SOCIETY.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n\nPART FIRST.\n\nOF THE GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF HUMAN NATURE.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n\nSECTION I.\n\nOF THE QUESTION RELATING TO THE STATE OF NATURE.\n\n\nNatural productions are generally formed by degrees. Vegetables are raised\nfrom a tender shoot, and animals from an infant state. The latter, being\nactive, extend together their operations and their powers, and have a\nprogress in what they perform, as well as in the faculties they acquire.\nThis progress in the case of man is continued to a greater extent than in\nthat of any other animal. Not only the individual advances from infancy to\nmanhood, but the species itself from rudeness to civilization. Hence the\nsupposed departure of mankind from the state of their nature; hence our\nconjectures and different opinions of what man must have been in the first\nage of his being. The poet, the historian, and the moralist frequently\nallude to this ancient time; and under the emblems of gold, or of iron,\nrepresent a condition, and a manner of life, from which mankind have either\ndegenerated, or on which they have greatly improved. On either supposition,\nthe first state of our nature must have borne no resemblance to what men\nhave exhibited in any subsequent period; historical monuments, even of the\nearliest date, are to be considered as novelties; and the most common\nestablishments of human society are to be classed among the encroachments\nwhich fraud, oppression, or a busy invention, have made upon the reign of\nnature, by which the chief of our grievances or blessings were equally\nwithheld.\n\nAmong the writers who have attempted to distinguish, in the human\ncharacter, its original qualities, and to point out the limits between\nnature and art, some have represented mankind in their first condition, as\npossessed of mere animal sensibility, without any exercise of the faculties\nthat render them superior to the brutes, without any political union,\nwithout any means of explaining their sentiments, and even without\npossessing any of the apprehensions and passions which the voice and the\ngesture are so well fitted to express. Others have made the state of nature\nto consist in perpetual wars kindled by competition for dominion and\ninterest, where every individual had a separate quarrel with his kind, and\nwhere the presence of a fellow creature was the signal of battle.\n\nThe desire of laying the foundation of a favourite system, or a fond\nexpectation, perhaps, that we may be able to penetrate the secrets of\nnature, to the very source of existence, have, on this subject, led to many\nfruitless inquiries, and given rise to many wild suppositions. Among the\nvarious qualities which mankind possess, we select one or a few particulars\non which to establish a theory, and in framing our account of what man was\nin some imaginary state of nature, we overlook what he has always appeared\nwithin the reach of our own observation, and in the records of history.\n\nIn every other instance, however, the natural historian thinks himself\nobliged to collect facts, not to offer conjectures. When he treats of any\nparticular species of animals, he supposes that their present dispositions\nand instincts are the same which they originally had, and that their\npresent manner of life is a continuance of their first destination. He\nadmits, that his knowledge of the material system of the world consists in\na collection of facts, or at most, in general tenets derived from\nparticular observations and experiments. It is only in what relates to\nhimself, and in matters the most important and the most easily known, that\nhe substitutes hypothesis instead of reality, and confounds the provinces\nof imagination and reason, of poetry and science.\n\nBut without entering any further on questions either in moral or physical\nsubjects, relating to the manner or to the origin of our knowledge; without\nany disparagement to that subtilty which would analyze every sentiment, and\ntrace every mode of being to its source; it may be safely affirmed, that\nthe character of man, as he now exists, that the laws of his animal and\nintellectual system, on which his happiness now depends, deserve our\nprincipal study; and that general principles relating to this or any other\nsubject, are useful only so far as they are founded on just observation,\nand lead to the knowledge of important consequences, or so far as they\nenable us to act with success when we would apply either the intellectual\nor the physical powers of nature, to the purposes of human life.\n\nIf both the earliest and the latest accounts collected from every quarter\nof the earth, represent mankind as assembled in troops and companies; and\nthe individual always joined by affection to one party, while he is\npossibly opposed to another; employed in the exercise of recollection and\nforesight; inclined to communicate his own sentiments, and to be made\nacquainted with those of others; these facts must be admitted as the\nfoundation of all our reasoning relative to man. His mixed disposition to\nfriendship or enmity, his reason, his use of language and articulate\nsounds, like the shape and the erect position of his body, are to be\nconsidered as so many attributes of his nature: they are to be retained in\nhis description, as the wing and the paw are in that of the eagle and the\nlion, and as different degrees of fierceness, vigilance, timidity, or\nspeed, have a place in the natural history of different animals.\n\nIf the question be put, What the mind of man could perform, when left to\nitself, and without the aid of any foreign direction? we are to look for\nour answer in the history of mankind. Particular experiments which have\nbeen found so useful in establishing the principles of other sciences,\ncould probably, on this subject, teach us nothing important, or new: we are\nto take the history of every active being from his conduct in the situation\nto which he is formed, not from his appearance in any forced or uncommon\ncondition; a wild man therefore, caught in the woods, where he had always\nlived apart from his species, is a singular instance, not a specimen of any\ngeneral character. As the anatomy of an eye which had never received the\nimpressions of light, or that of an ear which had never felt the impulse of\nsounds, would probably exhibit defects in the very structure of the organs\nthemselves, arising from their not being applied to their proper functions;\nso any particular case of this sort would only show in what degree the\npowers of apprehension and sentiment could exist where they had not been\nemployed, and what would be the defects and imbecilities of a heart in\nwhich the emotions that arise in society had never been felt.\n\nMankind are to be taken in groupes, as they have always subsisted. The\nhistory of the individual is but a detail of the sentiments and the\nthoughts he has entertained in the view of his species: and every\nexperiment relative to this subject should be made with entire societies,\nnot with single men. We have every reason, however, to believe, that in the\ncase of such an experiment made, we shall suppose, with a colony of\nchildren transplanted from the nursery, and left to form a society apart,\nuntaught, and undisciplined, we should only have the same things repeated,\nwhich, in so many different parts of the earth, have been transacted\nalready. The members of our little society would feed and sleep, would herd\ntogether and play, would have a language of their own, would quarrel and\ndivide, would be to one another the most important objects of the scene,\nand, in the ardour of their friendships and competitions, would overlook\ntheir personal danger, and suspend the care of their self-preservation. Has\nnot the human race been planted like the colony in question? Who has\ndirected their course? whose instruction have they heard? or whose example\nhave they followed?\n\nNature, therefore, we shall presume, having given to every animal its mode\nof existence, its dispositions and manner of life, has dealt equally with\nthe human race; and the natural historian who would collect the properties\nof this species, may fill up every article now as well as he could have\ndone in any former age. The attainments of the parent do not descend in the\nblood of his children, nor is the progress of man to be considered as a\nphysical mutation of the species. The individual, in every age, has the\nsame race to run from infancy to manhood, and every infant, or ignorant\nperson, now, is a model of what man was in his original state. He enters on\nhis career with advantages peculiar to his age; but his natural talent is\nprobably the same. The use and application of this talent is changing, and\nmen continue their works in progression through many ages together: they\nbuild on foundations laid by their ancestors; and in a succession of years,\ntend to a perfection in the application of their faculties, to which the\naid of long experience is required, and to which many generations must have\ncombined their endeavours. We observe the progress they have made; we\ndistinctly enumerate many of its steps; we can trace them back to a distant\nantiquity, of which no record remains, nor any monument is preserved, to\ninform us what were the openings of this wonderful scene. The consequence\nis, that instead of attending to the character of our species, where the\nparticulars are vouched by the surest authority, we endeavour to trace it\nthrough ages and scenes unknown; and, instead of supposing that the\nbeginning of our story was nearly of a piece with the sequel, we think\nourselves warranted to reject every circumstance of our present condition\nand frame, as adventitious, and foreign to our nature. The progress of\nmankind, from a supposed state of animal sensibility, to the attainment of\nreason, to the use of language, and to the habit of society, has been\naccordingly painted with a force of imagination, and its steps have been\nmarked with a boldness of invention, that would tempt us to admit, among\nthe materials of history, the suggestions of fancy, and to receive,\nperhaps, as the model of our nature in its original state, some of the\nanimals whose shape has the greatest resemblance to ours. [Footnote:\n_Rousseau_ sur l'origine de l'inegalit\u00e9 parmi les hommes.]\n\nIt would be ridiculous to affirm, as a discovery, that the species of the\nhorse was probably never the same with that of the lion; yet, in opposition\nto what has dropped from the pens of eminent writers, we are obliged to\nobserve, that men have always appeared among animals a distinct and a\nsuperior race; that neither the possession of similar organs, nor the\napproximation of shape, nor the use of the hand, [Footnote: Trait\u00e9 de\nl'esprit.] nor the continued intercourse with this sovereign artist, has\nenabled any other species to blend their nature or their inventions with\nhis; that, in his rudest state, he is found to be above them; and in his\ngreatest degeneracy, never descends to their level. He is, in short, a man\nin every condition; and we can learn nothing of his nature from the analogy\nof other animals. If we would know him, we must attend to himself, to the\ncourse of his life, and the tenor of his conduct. With him the society\nappears to be as old as the individual, and the use of the tongue as\nuniversal as that of the hand or the foot. If there was a time in which he\nhad his acquaintance with his own species to make, and his faculties to\nacquire, it is a time of which we have no record, and in relation to which\nour opinions can serve no purpose, and are supported by no evidence.\n\nWe are often tempted into these boundless regions of ignorance or\nconjecture, by a fancy which delights in creating rather than in merely\nretaining the forms which are presented before it: we are the dupes of a\nsubtilty, which promises to supply every defect of our knowledge, and, by\nfilling up a few blanks in the story of nature, pretends to conduct our\napprehension nearer to the source of existence. On the credit of a few\nobservations, we are apt to presume, that the secret may soon be laid open,\nand that what is termed _wisdom_ in nature, may be referred to the\noperation of physical powers. We forget that physical powers employed in\nsuccession or together, and combined to a salutary purpose, constitute\nthose very proofs of design from which we infer the existence of God; and\nthat this truth being once admitted, we are no longer to search for the\nsource of existence; we can only collect the laws which the Author of\nnature has established; and in our latest as well as our earliest\ndiscoveries, only perceive a mode of creation or providence before unknown.\n\nWe speak of art as distinguished from nature; but art itself is natural to\nman. He is in some measure the artificer of his own frame, as well as of\nhis fortune, and is destined, from the first age of his being, to invent\nand contrive. He applies the same talents to a variety of purposes, and\nacts nearly the same part in very different scenes. He would be always\nimproving on his subject, and he carries this intention wherever he moves,\nthrough the streets of the populous city, or the wilds of the forest. While\nhe appears equally fitted to every condition, he is upon this account\nunable to settle in any. At once obstinate and fickle, he complains of\ninnovations, and is never sated with novelty. He is perpetually busied in\nreformations, and is continually wedded to his errors. If he dwells in a\ncave, he would improve it into a cottage; if he has already built, he would\nstill build to a greater extent. But he does not propose to make rapid and\nhasty transitions; his steps are progressive and slow; and his force, like\nthe power of a spring, silently presses on every resistance; an effect is\nsometimes produced before the cause is perceived; and with all his talent\nfor projects, his work is often accomplished before the plan is devised. It\nappears, perhaps, equally difficult to retard or to quicken his pace; if\nthe projector complain he is tardy, the moralist thinks him unstable; and\nwhether his motions be rapid or slow, the scenes of human affairs\nperpetually change in his management: his emblem is a passing stream, not a\nstagnating pool. We may desire to direct his love of improvement to its\nproper object, we may wish for stability of conduct; but we mistake human\nnature, if we wish for a termination of labour, or a scene of repose.\n\nThe occupations of men, in every condition, bespeak their freedom of\nchoice, their various opinions, and the multiplicity of wants by which they\nare urged: but they enjoy, or endure, with a sensibility, or a phlegm,\nwhich are nearly the same in every situation. They possess the shores of\nthe Caspian, or the Atlantic, by a different tenure, but with equal ease.\nOn the one they are fixed to the soil, and seem to be formed for\nsettlement, and the accommodation of cities: the names they bestow on a\nnation, and on its territory, are the same. On the other they are mere\nanimals of passage, prepared to roam on the face of the earth, and with\ntheir herds, in search of new pasture and favourable seasons, to follow the\nsun in his annual course.\n\nMan finds his lodgment alike in the cave, the cottage, and the palace; and\nhis subsistence equally in the woods, in the dairy, or the farm. He assumes\nthe distinction of titles, equipage, and dress; he devises regular systems\nof government, and a complicated body of laws; or naked in the woods has no\nbadge of superiority but the strength of his limbs and the sagacity of his\nmind; no rule of conduct but choice; no tie with his fellow creatures but\naffection, the love of company, and the desire of safety. Capable of a\ngreat variety of arts, yet dependent on none in particular for the\npreservation of his being; to whatever length he has carried his artifice,\nthere he seems to enjoy the conveniences that suit his nature, and to have\nfound the condition to which he is destined. The tree which an American, on\nthe banks of the Oroonoko [Footnote: Lafitau, moeurs des sauvages.], has\nchosen to climb for the retreat, and the lodgment of his family, is to him\na convenient dwelling. The sopha, the vaulted dome, and the colonade, do\nnot more effectually content their native inhabitant.\n\nIf we are asked therefore, where the state of nature is to be found? we may\nanswer, it is here; and it matters not whether we are understood to speak\nin the island of Great Britain, at the Cape of Good Hope, or the Straits of\nMagellan. While this active being is in the train of employing his talents,\nand of operating on the subjects around him, all situations are equally\nnatural. If we are told, that vice, at least, is contrary to nature; we may\nanswer, it is worse; it is folly and wretchedness. But if nature is only\nopposed to art, in what situation of the human race are the footsteps of\nart unknown? In the condition of the savage, as well as in that of the\ncitizen, are many proofs of human invention; and in either is not any\npermanent station, but a mere stage through which this travelling being is\ndestined to pass. If the palace be unnatural, the cottage is so no less;\nand the highest refinements of political and moral apprehension, are not\nmore artificial in their kind, than the first operations of sentiment and\nreason.\n\nIf we admit that man is susceptible of improvement, and has in himself a\nprinciple of progression, and a desire of perfection, it appears improper\nto say, that he has quitted the state of his nature, when he has begun to\nproceed; or that he finds a station for which he was not intended, while,\nlike other animals, he only follows the disposition, and employs the powers\nthat nature has given.\n\nThe latest efforts of human invention are but a continuation of certain\ndevices which were practised in the earliest ages of the world, and in the\nrudest state of mankind. What the savage projects, or observes, in the\nforest, are the steps which led nations, more advanced, from the\narchitecture of the cottage to that of the palace, and conducted the human\nmind from the perceptions of sense, to the general conclusions of science.\n\nAcknowledged defects are to man in every condition matter of dislike.\nIgnorance and imbecility are objects of contempt: penetration and conduct\ngive eminence and procure esteem. Whither should his feelings and\napprehensions on these subjects lead him? To a progress, no doubt, in which\nthe savage, as well as the philosopher, is engaged; in which they have made\ndifferent advances, but in which their ends are the same. The admiration\nwhich Cicero entertained for literature, eloquence, and civil\naccomplishments, was not more real than that of a Scythian for such a\nmeasure of similar endowments as his own apprehension could reach. \"Were I\nto boast,\" says a Tartar prince, [Footnote: Abulgaze Bahadur Chan; History\nof the Tartars.] \"it would be of that wisdom I have received from God.\nFor as, on the one hand, I yield to none in the conduct of war, in the\ndisposition of armies, whether of horse or of foot, and in directing the\nmovements of great or small bodies; so, on the other, I have my talent in\nwriting, inferior perhaps only to those who inhabit the great cities of\nPersia or India. Of other nations, unknown to me, I do not speak.\"\n\nMan may mistake the objects of his pursuit; he may misapply his industry,\nand misplace his improvements: If, under a sense of such possible errors,\nhe would find a standard by which to judge of his own proceedings, and\narrive at the best state of his nature, he cannot find it perhaps in the\npractice of any individual; or of any nation whatever; not even in the\nsense of the majority, or the prevailing opinion of his kind. He must look\nfor it in the best conceptions of his understanding, in the best movements\nof his heart; he must thence discover what is the perfection and the\nhappiness of which he is capable. He will find, on the scrutiny, that the\nproper state of his nature, taken in this sense, is not a condition from\nwhich mankind are for ever removed, but one to which they may now attain;\nnot prior to the exercise of their faculties, but procured by their just\napplication.\n\nOf all the terms that we employ in treating of human affairs, those of\n_natural_ and _unnatural_ are the least determinate in their\nmeaning. Opposed to affectation, frowardness, or any other defect of the\ntemper or character, the natural is an epithet of praise; but employed to\nspecify a conduct which proceeds from the nature of man, can serve to\ndistinguish nothing; for all the actions of men are equally the result of\ntheir nature. At most, this language can only refer to the general and\nprevailing sense or practice of mankind; and the purpose of every important\nenquiry on this subject may be served by the use of a language equally\nfamiliar and more precise. What is just, or unjust? What is happy or\nwretched, in the manners of men? What, in their various situations, is\nfavourable or adverse to their amiable qualities? are questions to which we\nmay expect a satisfactory answer; and whatever may have been the original\nstate of our species, it is of more importance to know the condition to\nwhich we ourselves should aspire, than that which our ancestors may be\nsupposed to have left.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION II.\n\nOF THE PRINCIPLES OF SELF PRESERVATION.\n\n\nIf in human nature there are qualities by which it is distinguished from\nevery other part of the animal creation, this nature itself is in different\nclimates and in different ages greatly diversified. The varieties merit our\nattention, and the course of every stream into which this mighty current\ndivides, deserves to be followed to its source. It appears necessary,\nhowever, that we attend to the universal qualities of our nature, before we\nregard its varieties, or attempt to explain differences consisting in the\nunequal possession or application of dispositions and powers that are in\nsome measure common to all mankind.\n\nMan, like the other animals, has certain instinctive propensities, which;\nprior to the perception of pleasure or pain, and prior to the experience of\nwhat is pernicious or useful, lead him to perform many functions which\nterminate in himself, or have a relation to his fellow creatures. He has\none set of dispositions which tend to his animal preservation, and to the\ncontinuance of his race; another which lead to society, and by inlisting\nhim on the side of one tribe or community, frequently engage him in war and\ncontention with the rest of mankind. His powers of discernment, or his\nintellectual faculties, which, under the appellation of _reason_, are\ndistinguished from the analogous endowments of other animals, refer to the\nobjects around him, either as they are subjects of mere knowledge, or as\nthey are subjects of approbation or censure. He is formed not only to know,\nbut likewise to admire and to contemn; and these proceedings of his mind\nhave a principal reference to his own character, and to that of his fellow\ncreatures, as being the subjects on which he is chiefly concerned to\ndistinguish what is right from what is wrong. He enjoys his felicity\nlikewise on certain fixed and determinate conditions; and either as an\nindividual apart, or as a member of civil society, must take a particular\ncourse, in order to reap the advantages of his nature. He is, withal, in a\nvery high degree susceptible of habits; and can, by forbearance or\nexercise, so far weaken, confirm, or even diversify his talents, and his\ndispositions, as to appear, in a great measure, the arbiter of his own rank\nin nature, and the author of all the varieties which are exhibited in the\nactual history of his species. The universal characteristics, in the mean\ntime, to which we have now referred, must, when we would treat of any part\nof this history, constitute the first subject of our attention; and they\nrequire not only to be enumerated, but to be distinctly considered.\n\nThe dispositions which tend to the preservation of the individual, while\nthey continue to operate in the manner of instinctive desires; are nearly\nthe same in man that they are in the other animals; but in him they are\nsooner or later combined with reflection and foresight; they give rise to\nhis apprehensions on the subject of property, and make him acquainted with\nthat object of care which he calls his interest. Without the instincts\nwhich teach the beaver and the squirrel, the ant and the bee, to make up\ntheir little hoards for winter, at first improvident, and where no\nimmediate object of passion is near, addicted to sloth, he becomes, in\nprocess of time, the great storemaster among animals. He finds in a\nprovision of wealth, which he is probably never to employ, an object of his\ngreatest solicitude, and the principal idol of his mind. He apprehends a\nrelation between his person and his property, which renders what he calls\nhis own in a manner a part of himself, a constituent of his rank, his\ncondition, and his character; in which, independent of any real enjoyment,\nhe may be fortunate or unhappy; and, independent of any personal merit, he\nmay be an object of consideration or neglect; and in which he may be\nwounded and injured, while his person is safe, and every want of his nature\nis completely supplied.\n\nIn these apprehensions, while other passions only operate occasionally, the\ninterested find the object of their ordinary cares; their motive to the\npractice of mechanic and commercial arts; their temptation to trespass on\nthe laws of justice; and, when extremely corrupted, the price of their\nprostitutions, and the standard of their opinions on the subject of good\nand of evil. Under this influence, they would enter, if not restrained by\nthe laws of civil society, on a scene of violence or meanness, which would\nexhibit our species, by turns, under an aspect more terrible and odious, or\nmore vile and contemptible, than that of any animal which inherits the\nearth.\n\nAlthough the consideration of interest is founded on the experience of\nanimal wants and desires, its object is not to gratify any particular\nappetite, but to secure the means of gratifying all; and it imposes\nfrequently a restraint on the very desires from which it arose, more\npowerful and more severe than those of religion or duty. It arises from the\nprinciples of self preservation in the human frame; but is a corruption, or\nat least a partial result, of those principles, and is upon many accounts\nvery improperly termed _self-love_.\n\nLove is an affection which carries the attention of the mind beyond itself,\nand is the sense of a relation to some fellow creature as to its object.\nBeing a complacency and a continued satisfaction in this object, it has,\nindependent of any external event, and in the midst of disappointment and\nsorrow, pleasures and triumphs unknown to those who are guided by mere\nconsiderations of interest; in every change of condition, it continues\nentirely distinct from the sentiments which we feel on the subject of\npersonal success or adversity. But as the care a man entertains for his own\ninterest, and the attention his affection makes him pay to that of another,\nmay have similar effects, the one on his own fortune, the other on that of\nhis friend, we confound the principles from which he acts; we suppose that\nthey are the same in kind, only referred to different objects; and we not\nonly misapply the name of love, in conjunction with self, but, in a manner\ntending to degrade our nature, we limit the aim of this supposed selfish\naffection to the securing or accumulating the constituents of interest, of\nthe means of mere animal life.\n\nIt is somewhat remarkable, that notwithstanding men value themselves so\nmuch on qualities of the mind, on parts, learning, and wit, on courage,\ngenerosity, and honour, those men are still supposed to be in the highest\ndegree selfish or attentive to themselves, who are most careful of animal\nlife, and who are least mindful of rendering that life an object worthy of\ncare. It will be difficult, however, to tell why a good understanding, a\nresolute and generous mind, should not, by every man in his senses, be\nreckoned as much parts of himself, as either his stomach or his palate, and\nmuch more than his estate or his dress. The epicure, who consults his\nphysician, how he may restore his relish for food, and, by creating an\nappetite, renew his enjoyment, might at least with an equal regard to\nhimself, consult how he might strengthen his affection to a parent or a\nchild, to his country or to mankind; and it is probable that an appetite of\nthis sort would prove a source of enjoyment not less than the former.\n\nBy our supposed selfish maxims, notwithstanding, we generally exclude from\namong the objects of our personal cares, many of the happier and more\nrespectable qualities of human nature. We consider affection and courage as\nmere follies, that lead us to neglect, or expose ourselves; we make wisdom\nconsist in a regard to our interest; and without explaining what interest\nmeans, we would have it understood as the only reasonable motive of action\nwith mankind. There is even a system of philosophy founded upon tenets of\nthis sort, and such is our opinion of what men are likely to do upon\nselfish principles, that we think it must have a tendency very dangerous to\nvirtue. But the errors of this system do not consist so much in general\nprinciples, as in their particular applications; not so much in teaching\nmen to regard themselves, as in leading them to forget, that their happiest\naffections, their candour, and their independence of mind, are in reality\nparts of themselves. And the adversaries of this supposed selfish\nphilosophy, where it makes self-love the ruling passion with mankind, have\nhad reason to find fault, not so much with its general representations of\nhuman nature, as with the obtrusion of a mere innovation in language for a\ndiscovery in science.\n\nWhen the vulgar speak of their different motives, they are satisfied with\nordinary names, which refer to known and obvious distinctions. Of this kind\nare the terms _benevolence_ and _selfishness_, by the first of\nwhich they express their friendly affections, and by the second their\ninterest. The speculative are not always satisfied with this proceeding;\nthey would analyze, as well as enumerate the principles of nature; and the\nchance is, that, merely to gain the appearance of something new, without\nany prospect of real advantage, they will attempt to change the application\nof words. In the case before us, they have actually found, that benevolence\nis no more than a species of self-love; and would oblige us, if possible,\nto look out for a new set of names, by which we may distinguish the\nselfishness of the parent when he takes care of his child, from his\nselfishness when he only takes care of himself. For, according to this\nphilosophy, as in both cases he only means to gratify a desire of his own,\nhe is in both cases equally selfish. The term _benevolent_, in the\nmean time, is not employed to characterize persons who have no desires of\ntheir own, but persons whose own desires prompt them to procure the welfare\nof others. The fact is, that we should need only a fresh supply of\nlanguage, instead of that which by this seeming discovery we should have\nlost, in order to make our reasonings proceed as they formerly did. But it\nis certainly impossible to live and to act with men, without employing\ndifferent names to distinguish the humane from the cruel, and the\nbenevolent from the selfish.\n\nThese terms have their equivalents in every tongue; they were invented by\nmen of no refinement, who only meant to express what they distinctly\nperceived, or strongly felt. And if a man of speculation should prove, that\nwe are selfish in a sense of his own, it does not follow that we are so in\nthe sense of the vulgar; or, as ordinary men would understand his\nconclusion, that we are condemned in every instance to act on motives of\ninterest, covetousness, pusillanimity, and cowardice; for such is conceived\nto be the ordinary import of selfishness in the character of man.\n\nAn affection or passion of any kind is sometimes said to give us an\ninterest in its object; and humanity itself gives an interest in the\nwelfare of mankind. This term _interest_, which commonly implies\nlittle more than our property, is sometimes put for utility in general, and\nthis for happiness; insomuch, that, under these ambiguities, it is not\nsurprising we are still unable to determine, whether interest is the only\nmotive of human action, and the standard by which to distinguish our good\nfrom our ill.\n\nSo much is said in this place, not from a desire to partake in any such\ncontroversy, but merely to confine the meaning of the term _interest_\nto its most common acceptation, and to intimate a design to employ it in\nexpressing those objects of care which refer to our external condition, and\nthe preservation of our animal nature. When taken in this sense, it will\nnot surely be thought to comprehend at once all the motives of human\nconduct. If men be not allowed to have disinterested benevolence, they will\nnot be denied to have disinterested passions of another kind. Hatred,\nindignation, and rage, frequently urge them to act in opposition to their\nknown interest, and even to hazard their lives, without any hopes of\ncompensation in any future returns of preferment or profit.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION III.\n\nOF THE PRINCIPLES OF UNION AMONG MANKIND.\n\n\nMankind have always wandered or settled, agreed or quarrelled, in troops\nand companies. The cause of their assembling, whatever it be, is the\nprinciple of their alliance or union.\n\nIn collecting the materials of history, we are seldom willing to put up\nwith our subject merely as we find it. We are loth to be embarrassed with a\nmultiplicity of particulars, and apparent inconsistencies. In theory we\nprofess the investigation of general principles; and in order to bring the\nmatter of our inquiries within the reach of our comprehension, are disposed\nto adopt any system. Thus, in treating of human affairs, we would draw\nevery consequence from a principle of union, or a principle of dissention.\nThe state of nature is a state of war, or of amity, and men are made to\nunite from a principle of affection, or from a principle of fear, as is\nmost suitable to the system of different writers. The history of our\nspecies indeed abundantly shows, that they are to one another mutual\nobjects both of fear and of love; and they who would prove them to have\nbeen originally either in a state of alliance, or of war, have arguments in\nstore to maintain their assertions. Our attachment to one division, or to\none sect, seems often to derive much of its force from an animosity\nconceived to an opposite one: and this animosity in its turn, as often\narises from a zeal in behalf of the side we espouse, and from a desire to\nvindicate the rights of our party.\n\n\"Man is born in society,\" says Montesquieu, \"and there he remains.\" The\ncharms that detain him are known to be manifold. Together with the parental\naffection, which, instead of deserting the adult, as among the brutes,\nembraces more close, as it becomes mixed with esteem, and the memory of its\nearly effects; we may reckon a propensity common to man and other animals,\nto mix with the herd, and, without reflection, to follow the crowd of his\nspecies. What this propensity was in the first moment of its operation, we\nknow not; but with men accustomed to company, its enjoyments and\ndisappointments are reckoned among the principal pleasures or pains of\nhuman life. Sadness and melancholy are connected with solitude; gladness\nand pleasure with the concourse of men. The track of a Laplander on the\nsnowy shore, gives joy to the lonely mariner; and the mute signs of\ncordiality and kindness which are made to him, awaken the memory of\npleasures which he felt in society. In fine, says the writer of a voyage to\nthe North, after describing a mute scene of this sort, \"We were extremely\npleased to converse with men, since in thirteen months we had seen no human\ncreature.\" [Footnote: Collection of Dutch voyages.]\n\nBut we need no remote observation to confirm this position: the wailings of\nthe infant, and the languors of the adult, when alone; the lively joys of\nthe one, and the cheerfulness of the other, upon the return of company, are\na sufficient proof of its solid foundations in the frame of our nature.\n\nIn accounting for actions we often forget that we ourselves have acted; and\ninstead of the sentiments which stimulate the mind in the presence of its\nobject, we assign as the motives of conduct with men, those considerations\nwhich occur in the hours of retirement and cold reflection. In this mood\nfrequently we can find nothing important, besides the deliberate prospects\nof interest; and a great work, like that of forming society, must in our\napprehension arise from deep reflections, and be carried on with a view to\nthe advantages which mankind derive from commerce and mutual support. But\nneither a propensity to mix with the herd, nor the sense of advantages\nenjoyed in that condition, comprehend all the principles by which men are\nunited together. Those bands are even of a feeble texture, when compared to\nthe resolute ardour with which a man adheres to his friend, or to his\ntribe, after they have for some time run the career of fortune together.\nMutual discoveries of generosity, joint trials of fortitude redouble the\nardours of friendship, and kindle a flame in the human breast, which the\nconsiderations of personal interest or safety cannot suppress. The most\nlively transports of joy are seen, and the loudest shrieks of despair are\nheard, when the objects of a tender affection are beheld in a state of\ntriumph or of suffering. An Indian recovered his friend unexpectedly on the\nisland of Juan Fernandes: he prostrated himself on the ground, at his feet.\n\"We stood gazing in silence,\" says Dampier, \"at this tender scene.\" If we\nwould know what is the religion of a wild American, what it is in his heart\nthat most resembles devotion; it is not his fear of the sorcerer, nor his\nhope of protection from the spirits of the air or the wood: it is the\nardent affection with which he selects and embraces his friend; with which\nhe clings to his side in every season of peril; and with which he invokes\nhis spirit from a distance, when dangers surprise him alone. [Footnote:\nCharlevoix, Hist. of Canada.]\n\nWhatever proofs we may have of the social disposition of man in familiar\nand contiguous scenes, it is possibly of importance, to draw our\nobservations from the examples of men who live in the simplest condition,\nand who have not learned to affect what they do not actually feel.\n\nMere acquaintance and habitude nourish affection, and the experience of\nsociety brings every passion of the human mind upon its side. Its triumphs\nand prosperities, its calamities and distresses, bring a variety and a\nforce of emotion, which can only have place in the company of our fellow\ncreatures. It is here that a man is made to forget his weakness, his cares\nof safety, and his subsistence; and to act from those passions which make\nhim discover his force. It is here he finds that his arrows fly swifter\nthan the eagle, and his weapons wound deeper than the paw of the lion, or\nthe tooth of the boar. It is not alone his sense of a support which is\nnear, nor the love of distinction in the opinion of his tribe, that inspire\nhis courage, or swell his heart with a confidence that exceeds what his\nnatural force should bestow. Vehement passions of animosity or attachment\nare the first exertions of vigour in his breast; under their influence\nevery consideration, but that of his object, is forgotten; dangers and\ndifficulties only excite him the more.\n\nThat condition is surely favourable to the nature of any being, in which\nhis force is increased; and if courage be the gift of society to man, we\nhave reason to consider his union with his species as the noblest part of\nhis fortune. From this source are derived, not only the force, but the very\nexistence of his happiest emotions; not only the better part, but almost\nthe whole of his rational character. Send him to the desert alone, he is a\nplant torn from his roots: the form indeed may remain, but every faculty\ndroops and withers; the human personage and the human character cease to\nexist.\n\nMen are so far from valuing society on account of its mere external\nconveniencies, that they are commonly most attached where those\nconveniencies are least frequent; and are there most faithful, where the\ntribute of their allegiance is paid in blood. Affection operates with the\ngreatest force, where it meets with the greatest difficulties: in the\nbreast of the parent, it is most solicitous amidst the dangers and\ndistresses of the child; in the breast of a man, its flame redoubles where\nthe wrongs or sufferings of his friend, or his country, require his aid. It\nis, in short, from this principle alone that we can account for the\nobstinate attachment of a savage to his unsettled and defenceless tribe,\nwhen temptations on the side of ease and of safety might induce him to fly\nfrom famine and danger, to a station more affluent, and more secure. Hence\nthe sanguine affection which every Greek bore to his country, and hence the\ndevoted patriotism of an early Roman. Let those examples be compared with\nthe spirit which reigns in a commercial state, where men may be supposed to\nhave experienced, in its full extent, the interest which individuals have\nin the preservation of their country. It is here indeed, if ever, that man\nis sometimes found a detached and a solitary being: he has found an object\nwhich sets him in competition with his fellow creatures, and he deals with\nthem as he does with his cattle and his soil, for the sake of the profits\nthey bring. The mighty engine which we suppose to have formed society, only\ntends to set its members at variance, or to continue their intercourse\nafter the bands of affection are broken.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION IV.\n\nOF THE PRINCIPLES OF WAR AND DISSENTION.\n\n\n\"There are some circumstances in the lot of mankind,\" says Socrates, \"that\nshow them to be destined to friendship and amity: Those are, their mutual\nneed of each other; their mutual compassion; their sense of mutual benefit;\nand the pleasures arising in company. There are other circumstances which\nprompt them to war and dissention; the admiration and the desire which they\nentertain for the same subjects; their opposite pretensions; and the\nprovocations which they mutually offer in the course of their\ncompetitions.\"\n\nWhen we endeavour to apply the maxims of natural justice to the solution of\ndifficult questions, we find that some cases may be supposed, and actually\nhappen, where oppositions take place, and are lawful, prior to any\nprovocation, or act of injustice; that where the safety and preservation of\nnumbers are mutually inconsistent, one party may employ his right of\ndefence, before the other has begun an attack. And when we join with such\nexamples, the instances of mistake, and misunderstanding, to which mankind\nare exposed, we may be satisfied that war does not always proceed from an\nintention to injure; and that even the best qualities of men, their\ncandour, as well as their resolution, may operate in the midst of their\nquarrels.\n\nThere is still more to be observed on this subject. Mankind not only find\nin their condition the sources of variance and dissention; they appear to\nhave in their minds the seeds of animosity, and to embrace the occasions of\nmutual opposition, with alacrity and pleasure. In the most pacific\nsituation, there are few who have not their enemies, as well as their\nfriends; and who are not pleased with opposing the proceedings of one, as\nmuch as with favouring the designs of another. Small and simple tribes, who\nin their domestic society have the firmest union, are in their state of\nopposition as separate nations, frequently animated with the most\nimplacable hatred. Among the citizens of Rome, in the early ages of that\nrepublic, the name of a foreigner, and that of an enemy, were the same.\nAmong the Greeks, the name of Barbarian, under which that people\ncomprehended every nation that was of a race, and spoke a language,\ndifferent from their own, became a term of indiscriminate contempt and\naversion. Even where no particular claim to superiority is formed, the\nrepugnance to union, the frequent wars, or rather the perpetual hostilities\nwhich take place among rude nations and separate clans, discover how much\nour species is disposed to opposition, as well as to concert.\n\nLate discoveries have brought to our knowledge almost every situation in\nwhich mankind are placed. We have found them spread over large and\nextensive continents, where communications are open, and where national\nconfederacy might be easily formed. We have found them in narrower\ndistricts, circumscribed by mountains, great rivers, and arms of the sea.\nThey have been found in small islands, where the inhabitants might be\neasily assembled, and derive an advantage from their union. But in all\nthose situations, alike, they were broke into cantons, and affected a\ndistinction of name and community. The titles of _fellow citizen_ and\n_countrymen_, unopposed to those of _alien_ and _foreigner_, to which\nthey refer, would fall into disuse, and lose their meaning. We love\nindividuals on account of personal qualities; but we love our country,\nas it is a party in the divisions of mankind; and our zeal for its\ninterest, is a predilection in behalf of the side we maintain.\n\nIn the promiscuous concourse of men, it is sufficient that we have an\nopportunity of selecting our company. We turn away from those who do not\nengage us, and we fix our resort where the society is more to our mind. We\nare fond of distinctions; we place ourselves in opposition, and quarrel\nunder the denominations of faction and party, without any material subject\nof controversy. Aversion, like affection, is fostered by a continued\ndirection to its particular object. Separation and estrangement, as well as\nopposition, widen a breach which did not owe its beginnings to any offence.\nAnd it would seem, that till we have reduced mankind to the state of a\nfamily, or found some external consideration to maintain their connection\nin greater numbers, they will be for ever separated into bands, and form a\nplurality of nations.\n\nThe sense of a common danger, and the assaults of an enemy, have been\nfrequently useful to nations, by uniting their members more firmly\ntogether, and by preventing the secessions and actual separations in which\ntheir civil discord might otherwise terminate. And this motive to union\nwhich is offered from abroad, may be necessary, not only in the case of\nlarge and extensive nations, where coalitions are weakened by distance, and\nthe distinction of provincial names; but even in the narrow society of the\nsmallest states. Rome itself was founded by a small party which took its\nflight from Alba; her citizens were often in danger of separating; and if\nthe villages and cantons of the Volsci had been further removed from the\nscene of their dissentions, the Mons Sacer might have received a new colony\nbefore the mother country was ripe for such a discharge. She continued long\nto feel the quarrels of her nobles and her people; and kept open the gates\nof Janus, to remind those parties of the duties they owed to their country.\n\nSocieties, as well as individuals, being charged with the care of their own\npreservation, and having separate interests, which give rise to jealousies\nand competitions, we cannot be surprised to find hostilities arise from\nthis source. But were there no angry passions of a different sort, the\nanimosities which attend an opposition of interest, should bear a\nproportion to the supposed value of the subject. \"The Hottentot nations,\"\nsays Kolben, \"trespass on each other by thefts of cattle and of women; but\nsuch injuries are seldom committed, except with a view to exasperate their\nneighbours, and bring them to a war.\" Such depredations then, are not the\nfoundation of a war, but the effects of a hostile intention already\nconceived. The nations of North America, who have no herds to preserve,\nnor settlements to defend, are yet engaged in almost perpetual wars, for\nwhich they can assign no reason, but the point of honour, and a desire\nto continue the struggle their fathers maintained. They do not regard\nthe spoils of an enemy; and the warrior who has seized any booty, easily\nparts with it to the first person who comes in his way. [Footnote: See\nCharlevoix's History of Canada.]\n\nBut we need not cross the Atlantic to find proofs of animosity, and to\nobserve, in the collision of separate societies, the influence of angry\npassions, that do not arise from an opposition of interest. Human nature\nhas no part of its character of which more flagrant examples are given on\nthis side of the globe. What is it that stirs in the breasts of ordinary\nmen when the enemies of their country are named? Whence are the prejudices\nthat subsist between different provinces, cantons, and villages, of the\nsame empire and territory? What is it that excites one half of the nations\nof Europe against the other? The statesman may explain his conduct on\nmotives of national jealousy and caution, but the people have dislikes and\nantipathies, for which they cannot account. Their mutual reproaches of\nperfidy and injustice, like the Hottentot depredations, are but symptoms of\nan animosity, and the language of a hostile disposition, already conceived.\nThe charge of cowardice and pusillanimity, qualities which the interested\nand cautious enemy should, of all others, like best to find in his rival,\nis urged with aversion, and made the ground of dislike. Hear the peasants\non different sides of the Alps, and the Pyrenees, the Rhine, or the British\nchannel, give vent to their prejudices and national passions; it is among\nthem that we find the materials of war and dissention laid without the\ndirection of government, and sparks ready to kindle into a flame, which the\nstatesman is frequently disposed to extinguish. The fire will not always\ncatch where his reasons of state would direct, nor stop where the\nconcurrence of interest has produced an alliance. \"My father,\" said a\nSpanish peasant, \"would rise from his grave, if he could foresee a war with\nFrance.\" What interest had he, or the bones of his father, in the quarrels\nof princes?\n\nThese observations seem to arraign our species, and to give an unfavourable\npicture of mankind; and yet the particulars we have mentioned are\nconsistent with the most amiable qualities of our nature, and often furnish\na scene for the exercise of our greatest abilities. They are sentiments of\ngenerosity and self denial that animate the warrior in defence of his\ncountry; and they are dispositions most favourable to mankind, that become\nthe principles of apparent hostility to men. Every animal is made to\ndelight in the exercise of his natural talents and forces. The lion and the\ntyger sport with the paw; the horse delights to commit his mane to the\nwind, and forgets his pasture to try his speed in the field; the bull even\nbefore his brow is armed, and the lamb while yet an emblem of innocence,\nhave a disposition to strike with the forehead, and anticipate, in play,\nthe conflicts they are doomed to sustain. Man too is disposed to\nopposition, and to employ the forces of his nature against an equal\nantagonist; he loves to bring his reason, his eloquence, his courage, even\nhis bodily strength to the proof. His sports are frequently an image of\nwar; sweat and blood are freely expended in play; and fractures or death\nare often made to terminate the pastime of idleness and festivity. He was\nnot made to live for ever, and even his love of amusement has opened a way\nto the grave.\n\nWithout the rivalship of nations, and the practice of war, civil society\nitself could scarcely have found an object, or a form. Mankind might have\ntraded without any formal convention, but they cannot be safe without a\nnational concert. The necessity of a public defence, has given rise to many\ndepartments of state, and the intellectual talents of men have found their\nbusiest scene in wielding their national forces. To overawe, or intimidate,\nor, when we cannot persuade with reason, to resist with fortitude, are the\noccupations which give its most animating exercise, and its greatest\ntriumphs, to a vigorous mind; and he who has never struggled with his\nfellow creatures, is a stranger to half the sentiments of mankind.\n\nThe quarrels of individuals, indeed, are frequently the operations of\nunhappy and detestable passions, malice, hatred, and rage. If such passions\nalone possess the breast, the scene of dissention becomes an object of\nhorror; but a common opposition maintained by numbers, is always allayed by\npassions of another sort. Sentiments of affection and friendship mix with\nanimosity; the active and strenuous become the guardians of their society;\nand violence itself is, in their case, an exertion of generosity, as well\nas of courage. We applaud, as proceeding from a national or party spirit,\nwhat we could not endure as the effect of a private dislike; and, amidst\nthe competitions of rival states, think we have found, for the patriot and\nthe warrior, in the practice of violence and stratagem, the most\nillustrious career of human virtue. Even personal opposition here does not\ndivide our judgment on the merits of men. The rival names of Agesilaus and\nEpaminondas, of Scipio and Hannibal, are repeated with equal praise; and\nwar itself, which in one view appears so fatal, in another is the exercise\nof a liberal spirit; and in the very effects which we regret, is but one\ndistemper more, by which the Author of nature has appointed our exit from\nhuman life.\n\nThese reflections may open our view into the state of mankind; but they\ntend to reconcile us to the conduct of Providence, rather than to make us\nchange our own; where, from a regard to the welfare of our fellow\ncreatures, we endeavour to pacify their animosities, and unite them by the\nties of affection. In the pursuit of this amiable intention, we may hope,\nin some instances, to disarm the angry passions of jealousy and envy; we\nmay hope to instil into the breasts of private men sentiments of candour\ntowards their fellow creatures, and a disposition to humanity and justice.\nBut it is vain to expect that we can give to the multitude of a people a\nsense of union among themselves, without admitting hostility to those who\noppose them. Could we at once, in the case of any nation, extinguish the\nemulation which is excited from abroad, we should probably break or weaken\nthe bands of society at home, and close the busiest scenes of national\noccupations and virtues.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION V.\n\nOF INTELLECTUAL POWERS.\n\n\nMany attempts have been made to analyze the dispositions which we have now\nenumerated; but one purpose of science, perhaps the most important, is\nserved, when the existence of a disposition is established. We are more\nconcerned in its reality, and in its consequences, than we are in its\norigin, or manner of formation.\n\nThe same observation may be applied to the other powers and faculties of\nour nature. Their existence and use are the principal objects of our study.\nThinking and reasoning, we say, are the operations of some faculty; but in\nwhat manner the faculties of thought or reason remain, when they are not\nexerted, or by what difference in the frame they are unequal in different\npersons, are questions which we cannot resolve. Their operations alone\ndiscover them; when unapplied, they lie hid even from the person to whom\nthey pertain; and their action is so much a part of their nature, that the\nfaculty itself, in many cases, is scarcely to be distinguished from a habit\nacquired in its frequent exertion.\n\nPersons who are occupied with different subjects, who act in different\nscenes, generally appear to have different talents, or at least to have the\nsame faculties variously formed, and suited to different purposes. The\npeculiar genius of nations, as well as of individuals, may in this manner\narise from the state of their fortunes. And it is proper that we endeavour\nto find some rule, by which to judge of what is admirable in the capacities\nof men, or fortunate in the application of their faculties, before we\nventure to pass a judgment on this branch of their merits, or pretend to\nmeasure the degree of respect they may claim by their different\nattainments.\n\nTo receive the informations of sense, is perhaps the earliest function of\nan animal combined with an intellectual nature; and one great\naccomplishment of the living agent consists in the force and sensibility of\nhis animal organs. The pleasures or pains to which he is exposed from this\nquarter, constitute to him an important difference between the objects\nwhich are thus brought to his knowledge; and it concerns him to distinguish\nwell, before he commits himself to the direction of appetite. He must\nscrutinize the objects of one sense, by the perceptions of another; examine\nwith the eye, before he ventures to touch; and employ every means of\nobservation, before he gratifies the appetites of thirst and of hunger. A\ndiscernment acquired by experience, becomes a faculty of his mind; and the\ninferences of thought are sometimes not to be distinguished from the\nperceptions of sense.\n\nThe objects around us, beside their separate appearances, have their\nrelations to each other. They suggest, when compared, what would not occur\nwhen they are considered apart; they have their effects, and mutual\ninfluences; they exhibit, in like circumstances, similar operations, and\nuniform consequences. When we have found and expressed the points in which\nthe uniformity of their operations consists, we have ascertained a physical\nlaw. Many such laws, and even the most important, are known to the vulgar,\nand occur upon the smallest degrees of reflection; but others are hid under\na seeming confusion, which ordinary talents cannot remove; and are\ntherefore the objects of study, long observation, and superior capacity.\nThe faculties of penetration and judgment, are, by men of business, as well\nas of science, employed to unravel intricacies of this sort; and the degree\nof sagacity with which either is endowed, is to be measured by the success\nwith which they are able to find general rules, applicable to a variety of\ncases that seemed to have nothing in common, and to discover important\ndistinctions between subjects which the vulgar are apt to confound.\n\nTo collect a multiplicity of particulars under general heads, and to refer\na variety of operations to their common principle, is the object of\nscience. To do the same thing, at least within the range of his active\nengagements, is requisite to the man of pleasure, or business; and it would\nseem, that the studious and the active are so far employed in the same\ntask, from observation and experience, to find the general views under\nwhich their objects may be considered, and the rules which may be usefully\napplied in the detail of their conduct. They do not always apply their\ntalents to different subjects; and they seem to be distinguished chiefly by\nthe unequal reach and variety of their remarks, or by the intentions which\nthey severally have in collecting them.\n\nWhilst men continue to act from appetites and passions, leading to the\nattainment of external ends, they seldom quit the view of their objects in\ndetail, to go far in the road of general inquiries. They measure the extent\nof their own abilities, by the promptitude with which they apprehend what\nis important in every subject, and the facility with which they extricate\nthemselves on every trying occasion. And these, it must be confessed, to a\nbeing who is destined to act in the midst of difficulties, are the proper\ntest of capacity and force. The parade of words and general reasonings,\nwhich sometimes carry an appearance of so much learning and knowledge, are\nof little avail in the conduct of life. The talents from which they\nproceed, terminate in mere ostentation, and are seldom connected with that\nsuperior discernment which the active apply in times of perplexity; much\nless with that intrepidity and force of mind which are required in passing\nthrough difficult scenes.\n\nThe abilities of active men, however, have a variety corresponding to that\nof the subjects on which they are occupied. A sagacity applied to external\nand inanimate nature, forms one species of capacity; that which is turned\nto society and human affairs, another. Reputation for parts in any scene is\nequivocal, till we know by what kind of exertion that reputation is gained.\nNo more can be said, in commending men of the greatest abilities, than that\nthey understand well the subjects to which they have applied; and every\ndepartment, every profession, would have its great men, if there were not a\nchoice of objects for the understanding, and of talents for the mind, as\nwell as of sentiments for the heart, and of habits for the active\ncharacter.\n\nThe meanest professions, indeed, so far sometimes forget themselves, or the\nrest of mankind, as to arrogate, in commending what is distinguished in\ntheir own way, every epithet the most respectable claim as the right of\nsuperior abilities. Every mechanic is a great man with the learner, and the\nhumble admirer, in his particular calling: and we can, perhaps with more\nassurance pronounce what it is that should make a man happy and amiable,\nthan what should make his abilities respected, and his genius admired.\nThis, upon a view of the talents themselves, may perhaps be impossible. The\neffect, however, will point out the rule and the standard of our judgment.\nTo be admired and respected, is to have an ascendant among men. The talents\nwhich most directly procure that ascendant, are those which operate on\nmankind, penetrate their views, prevent their wishes, or frustrate their\ndesigns. The superior capacity leads with a superior energy, where every\nindividual would go, and shews the hesitating and irresolute a clear\npassage to the attainment of their ends.\n\nThis description does not pertain to any particular craft or profession; or\nperhaps it implies a kind of ability, which the separate application of men\nto particular callings, only tends to suppress or to weaken. Where shall we\nfind the talents which are fit to act with men in a collective body, if we\nbreak that body into parts, and confine the observation of each to a\nseparate track?\n\nTo act in the view of his fellow creatures, to produce his mind in public,\nto give it all the exercise of sentiment and thought, which pertain to man\nas a member of society, as a friend, or an enemy, seems to be the principal\ncalling and occupation of his nature. If he must labour, that he may\nsubsist, he can subsist for no better purpose than the good of mankind; nor\ncan he have better talents than those which qualify him to act with men.\nHere, indeed, the understanding appears to borrow very much from the\npassions; and there is a felicity of conduct in human affairs, in which it\nis difficult to distinguish the promptitude of the head from the ardour and\nsensibility of the heart. Where both are united, they constitute that\nsuperiority of mind, the frequency of which among men, in particular ages\nand nations, much more than the progress they have made in speculation, or\nin the practice of mechanic and liberal arts, should determine the rate of\ntheir genius, and assign the palm of distinction and honour.\n\nWhen nations succeed one another in the career of discoveries and\ninquiries, the last is always the most knowing. Systems of science are\ngradually formed. The globe itself is traversed by degrees, and the history\nof every age, when past, is an accession of knowledge to those who succeed.\nThe Romans were more knowing than the Greeks; and every scholar of modern\nEurope is, in this sense, more learned than the most accomplished person\nthat ever bore either of those celebrated names. But is he on that account\ntheir superior?\n\nMen are to be estimated, not from what they know, but from what they are\nable to perform; from their skill in adapting materials to the several\npurposes of life; from their vigour and conduct in pursuing the objects of\npolicy, and in finding the expedients of war and national defence. Even in\nliterature, they are to be estimated from the works of their genius, not\nfrom the extent of their knowledge. The scene of mere observation was\nextremely limited in a Grecian republic; and the bustle of an active life\nappeared inconsistent with study: but there the human mind,\nnotwithstanding, collected its greatest abilities, and received its best\ninformations, in the midst of sweat and of dust.\n\nIt is peculiar to modern Europe, to rest so much of the human character on\nwhat may be learned in retirement, and from the information of books. A\njust admiration of ancient literature, an opinion that human sentiment, and\nhuman reason, without this aid, were to have vanished from the societies of\nmen, have led us into the shade, where we endeavour to derive from\nimagination and study what is in reality matter of experience and\nsentiment; and we endeavour, through the grammar of dead languages, and the\nchannel of commentators, to arrive at the beauties of thought and\nelocution, which sprang from the animated spirit of society, and were taken\nfrom the living impressions of an active life. Our attainments are\nfrequently limited to the elements of every science, and seldom reach to\nthat enlargement of ability and power, which useful knowledge should give.\nLike mathematicians, who study the Elements of Euclid, but, never think of\nmensuration; we read of societies, but do not propose to act with men; we\nrepeat the language of politics, but feel not the spirit of nations; we\nattend to the formalities of a military discipline, but know not how to\nemploy numbers of men to obtain any purpose by stratagem or force.\n\nBut for what end, it may be said, point out an evil that cannot be\nremedied? If national affairs called for exertion, the genius of men would\nawake; but in the recess of better employment, the time which is bestowed\non study, if even attended with no other advantage, serves to occupy with\ninnocence the hours of leisure, and set bounds to the pursuit of ruinous\nand frivolous amusements. From no better reason than this, we employ so\nmany of our early years, under the rod, to acquire, what it is not expected\nwe should retain beyond the threshold of the school; and whilst we carry\nthe same frivolous character in our studies that we do in our amusements,\nthe human mind could not suffer more from a contempt of letters, than it\ndoes from the false importance which is given to literature, as a business\nfor life, not as a help to our conduct, and the means of forming a\ncharacter that may be happy in itself, and useful to mankind.\n\nIf that time which is passed in relaxing the powers of the mind, and in\nwithholding every object but what tends to weaken and to corrupt, were\nemployed in fortifying those powers, and in teaching the mind to recognize\nits objects, and its strength, we should not, at the years of maturity, be\nso much at a loss for occupation; nor, in attending the chances of a gaming\ntable, misemploy our talents, or waste the fire which remains in the\nbreast. They, at least, who by their stations have a share in the\ngovernment of their country, might believe themselves capable of business;\nand, while the state had its armies and councils, might find objects enough\nto amuse, without throwing a personal fortune into hazard, merely to cure\nthe yawnings of a listless and insignificant life. It is impossible for\never to maintain the tone of speculation; it is impossible not sometimes to\nfeel that we live among men.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION VI.\n\nOF MORAL SENTIMENT.\n\n\nUpon a slight observation of what passes in human life, we should be apt to\nconclude, that the care of subsistence is the principal spring of human\nactions. This consideration leads to the invention and practice of\nmechanical arts; it serves to distinguish amusement from business; and,\nwith many, scarcely admits into competition any other subject of pursuit or\nattention. The mighty advantages of property and fortune, when stript of\nthe recommendations they derive from vanity, or the more serious regards to\nindependence and power, only mean a provision that is made for animal\nenjoyment; and if our solicitude on this subject were removed, not only the\ntoils of the mechanic, but the studies of the learned, would cease; every\ndepartment of public business would become unnecessary; every senate house\nwould be shut up, and every palace deserted.\n\nIs man therefore, in respect to his object, to be classed with the mere\nbrutes, and only to be distinguished by faculties that qualify him to\nmultiply contrivances for the support and convenience of animal life, and\nby the extent of a fancy that renders the care of animal preservation to\nhim more burthensome than it is to the herd with which he shares in the\nbounty of nature? If this were his case, the joy which attends on success,\nor the griefs which arise from disappointment, would make the sum of his\npassions. The torrent that wasted, or the inundation that enriched, his\npossessions, would give him all the emotion with which he is seized, on the\noccasion of a wrong by which his fortunes are impaired, or of a benefit by\nwhich they are preserved and enlarged. His fellow creatures would be\nconsidered merely as they affected his interest. Profit or loss would serve\nto mark the event of every transaction; and the epithets _useful_ or\n_detrimental_ would serve to distinguish his mates in society, as they\ndo the tree which bears plenty of fruit, from that which only cumbers the\nground, or intercepts his view.\n\nThis, however, is not the history of our species. What comes from a fellow\ncreature is received with peculiar emotion; and every language abounds with\nterms that express somewhat in the transactions of men, different from\nsuccess and disappointment. The bosom kindles in company, while the point\nof interest in view has nothing to inflame; and a matter frivolous in\nitself, becomes important, when it serves to bring to light the intentions\nand characters of men. The foreigner, who believed that Othello, on the\nstage, was enraged for the loss of his handkerchief, was not more mistaken,\nthan the reasoner who imputes any of the more vehement passions of men to\nthe impressions of mere profit or loss.\n\nMen assemble to deliberate on business; they separate from jealousies of\ninterest; but in their several collisions, whether as friends or as\nenemies, a fire is struck out which the regards to interest or safety\ncannot confine. The value of a favour is not measured when sentiments of\nkindness are perceived; and the term _misfortune_ has but a feeble\nmeaning, when compared to that of _insult_ and _wrong_.\n\nAs actors or spectators, we are perpetually made to feel the difference of\nhuman conduct, and from a bare recital of transactions, which have passed\nin ages and countries remote from our own, are moved with admiration and\npity, or transported with indignation and rage. Our sensibility on this\nsubject gives their charm in retirement, to the relations of history and to\nthe fictions of poetry; sends forth the tear of compassion, gives to the\nblood its briskest movement, and to the eye its liveliest glances of\ndispleasure or joy. It turns human life into an interesting spectacle, and\nperpetually solicits even the indolent to mix, as opponents or friends, in\nthe scenes which are acted before them. Joined to the powers of\ndeliberation and reason, it constitutes the basis of a moral nature; and,\nwhilst it dictates the terms of praise and of blame, serves to class our\nfellow creatures, by the most admirable and engaging, or the most odious\nand contemptible denominations.\n\nIt is pleasant to find men, who in their speculations deny the reality of\nmoral distinctions, forget in detail the general positions they maintain,\nand give loose to ridicule, indignation, and scorn, as if any of these\nsentiments could have place, were the actions of men indifferent; or with\nacrimony pretend to detect the fraud by which moral restraints have been\nimposed, as if to censure a fraud were not already to take a part on the\nside of morality. [Footnote: Mandeville.]\n\nCan we explain the principles upon which mankind adjudge the preference of\ncharacters, and upon which they indulge such vehement emotions of\nadmiration or contempt? If it be admitted that we cannot, are the facts\nless true? Or must we suspend the movements of the heart, until they who\nare employed in framing systems of science have discovered the principle\nfrom which those movements proceed? If a finger burn, we care not for\ninformation on the properties of fire: if the heart be torn, or the mind\noverjoyed, we have not leisure for speculations on the subjects of moral\nsensibility.\n\nIt is fortunate in this, as in other articles to which speculation and\ntheory are applied, that nature proceeds in her course, whilst the curious\nare busied in the search of her principles. The peasant, or the child, can\nreason, and judge, and speak his language with a discernment, a\nconsistency, and a regard to analogy, which perplex the logician, the\nmoralist, and the grammarian, when they would find the principle upon which\nthe proceeding is founded, or when they would bring to general rule, what\nis so familiar, and so well sustained in particular cases. The felicity of\nour conduct is more owing to the talent we possess for detail, and to the\nsuggestion of particular occasions, than it is to any direction we can find\nin theory and general speculations.\n\nWe must, in the result of every inquiry, encounter with facts which we\ncannot explain; and to bear with this mortification would save us\nfrequently a great deal of fruitless trouble. Together with the sense of\nour existence, we must admit many circumstances which come to our knowledge\nat the same time, and in the same manner; and which do, in reality,\nconstitute the mode of our being. Every peasant will tell us, that a man\nhath his rights; and that to trespass on those rights is injustice. If we\nask him farther, what he means by the term _right?_ we probably force\nhim to substitute a less significant, or less proper term, in the place of\nthis; or require him to account for what is an original mode of his mind,\nand a sentiment to which he ultimately refers, when he would explain\nhimself upon any particular application of his language.\n\nThe rights of individuals may relate to a variety of subjects, and be\ncomprehended under different heads. Prior to the establishment of property,\nand the distinction of ranks, men have a right to defend their persons, and\nto act with freedom; they have a right to maintain the apprehensions of\nreason, and the feelings of the heart; and they cannot for a moment\nassociate together, without feeling that the treatment they give or receive\nmay be just or unjust. It is not, however, our business here to carry the\nnotion of a right into its several applications, but to reason on the\nsentiment of favour with which that notion is entertained in the mind. If\nit be true, that men are united by instinct, that they act in society from\naffections of kindness and friendship; if it be true, that even prior to\nacquaintance and habitude, men, as such, are commonly to each other objects\nof attention, and some degree of regard; that while their prosperity is\nbeheld with indifference, their afflictions are considered with\ncommiseration; if calamities be measured by the numbers and the qualities\nof men they involve; and if every suffering of a fellow creature draws a\ncrowd of attentive spectators; if, even in the case of those to whom we do\nnot habitually wish any positive good, we are still averse to be the\ninstruments of harm; it should seem, that in these various appearances of\nan amicable disposition, the foundations of a moral apprehension are\nsufficiently laid, and the sense of a right which we maintain for\nourselves, is by a movement of humanity and candour extended to our fellow\ncreatures.\n\nWhat is it that prompts the tongue when we censure an act of cruelty or\noppression? What is it that constitutes our restraint from offences that\ntend to distress our fellow creatures? It is probably, in both cases, a\nparticular application of that principle, which, in presence of the\nsorrowful, sends forth the tear of compassion; and a combination of all\nthose sentiments, which constitute a benevolent disposition; and if not a\nresolution to do good, at least an aversion to be the instrument of harm.\n[Footnote: Mankind, we are told, are devoted to interest; and this, in all\ncommercial nations, is undoubtedly true. But it does not follow, that they\nare, by their natural dispositions, averse to society and mutual affection:\nproofs of the contrary remain, even where interest triumphs most. What must\nwe think of the force of that disposition to compassion, to candour, and\ngood will, which, notwithstanding the prevailing opinion that the happiness\nof a man consists in possessing the greatest possible share of riches,\npreferments, and honours, still keeps the parties who are in competition\nfor those objects, on a tolerable footing of amity, and leads them to\nabstain even from their own supposed good, when their seizing it appears in\nthe light of a detriment to others? What might we not expect from the human\nheart in circumstances which prevented this apprehension on the subject of\nfortune, or under the influence of an opinion as steady and general as the\nformer, that human felicity does not consist in the indulgences of animal\nappetite, but in those of a benevolent heart; not in fortune or interest,\nbut in the contempt of this very object, in the courage and freedom which\narise from this contempt, joined to a resolute choice of conduct, directed\nto the good of mankind, or to the good of that particular society to which\nthe party belongs?]\n\nIt may be difficult, however, to enumerate the motives of all the censures\nand commendations which are applied to the actions of men. Even while we\nmoralize, every disposition of the human mind may have its share in forming\nthe judgment, and in prompting the tongue. As jealousy is often the most\nwatchful guardian of chastity, so malice is often the quickest to spy the\nfailings of our neighbour. Envy, affectation, and vanity, may dictate the\nverdicts we give, and the worst principles of our nature may be at the\nbottom of our pretended zeal for morality; but if we only mean to inquire,\nwhy they who are well disposed to mankind apprehend, in every instance,\ncertain rights pertaining to their fellow creatures, and why they applaud\nthe consideration that is paid to those rights, we cannot assign a better\nreason, than that the person who applauds, is well disposed to the welfare\nof the parties to whom his applauses refer. Applause, however, is the\nexpression of a peculiar sentiment; an expression of esteem the reverse of\ncontempt. Its object is perfection, the reverse of defect. This sentiment\nis not the love of mankind; it is that by which we estimate the qualities\nof men, and the objects of our pursuit; that which doubles the force of\nevery desire or aversion, when we consider its object as tending to raise\nor to sink our nature.\n\nWhen we consider, that the reality of any amicable propensity in the human\nmind has been frequently contested; when we recollect the prevalence of\ninterested competitions, with their attendant passions of jealousy, envy,\nand malice; it may seem strange to allege, that love and compassion are,\nnext to the desire of elevation, the most powerful motives in the human\nbreast: That they urge, on many occasions, with the most irresistible\nvehemence; and if the desire of self preservation be more constant, and\nmore uniform, these are a more plentiful source of enthusiasm,\nsatisfaction, and joy. With a power not inferior to that of resentment and\nrage, they hurry the mind into every sacrifice of interest, and bear it\nundismayed through every hardship and danger.\n\nThe disposition on which friendship is grafted, glows with satisfaction in\nthe hours of tranquillity, and is pleasant, not only in its triumphs, but\neven in its sorrows. It throws a grace on the external air, and, by its\nexpression on the countenance, compensates for the want of beauty, or gives\na charm which no complexion or features can equal. From this source the\nscenes of human life derive their principal felicity; and their imitations\nin poetry, their principal ornament. Descriptions of nature, even\nrepresentations of a vigorous conduct, and a manly courage, do not engage\nthe heart, if they be not mixed with the exhibition of generous sentiments,\nand the pathetic, which is found to arise in the struggles, the triumphs,\nor the misfortunes of a tender affection. The death of Polites, in the\nAeneid, is not more affecting than that of many others who perished in the\nruins of Troy; but the aged Priam was present when this last of his sons\nwas slain; and the agonies of grief and sorrow force the parent from his\nretreat, to fall by the hand that shed the blood of his child. The pathetic\nof Homer consists in exhibiting the force of affections, not in exciting\nmere terror and pity; passions he has never perhaps, in any instance,\nattempted to raise.\n\nWith this tendency to kindle into enthusiasm, with this command over the\nheart, with the pleasure that attends its emotions, and with all its\neffects in meriting confidence and procuring esteem, it is not surprising,\nthat a principle of humanity should give the tone to our commendations and\nour censures, and even where it is hindered from directing our conduct,\nshould still give to the mind, on reflection, its knowledge of what is\ndesirable in the human character. _What hast thou done with thy brother\nAbel?_ was the first expostulation in behalf of morality; and if the\nfirst answer has been often repeated, mankind have notwithstanding, in one\nsense, sufficiently acknowledged the charge of their nature. They have\nfelt, they have talked, and even acted, as the keepers of their fellow\ncreatures: they have made the indications of candour and mutual affection\nthe test of what is meritorious and amiable in the characters of men: they\nhave made cruelty and oppression the principal objects of their indignation\nand rage: even while the head is occupied with projects of interest, the\nheart is often seduced into friendship; and while business proceeds on the\nmaxims of self preservation, the careless hour is employed in generosity\nand kindness.\n\nHence the rule by which men commonly judge of external actions, is taken\nfrom the supposed influence of such actions on the general good. To abstain\nfrom harm, is the great law of natural justice; to diffuse happiness, is the\nlaw of morality; and when we censure the conferring a favour on one or a\nfew at the expense of many, we refer to public utility, as the great object\nat which the actions of men should be aimed.\n\nAfter all, it must be confessed, that if a principle of affection to\nmankind be the basis of our moral approbation and dislike, we sometimes\nproceed in distributing applause or censure, without precisely attending to\nthe degree in which our fellow creatures are hurt or obliged; and that,\nbesides the virtues of candour, friendship, generosity, and public spirit,\nwhich bear an immediate reference to this principle, there are others which\nmay seem to derive their commendation from a different source. Temperance,\nprudence, fortitude, are those qualities likewise admired from a principle\nof regard to our fellow creatures? Why not, since they render men happy in\nthemselves, and useful to others? He who is qualified to promote the\nwelfare of mankind, is neither a sot, a fool, nor a coward. Can it be more\nclearly expressed, that temperance, prudence, and fortitude, are necessary\nto the character we love and admire? I know well why I should wish for them\nin myself; and why likewise I should wish for them in my friend, and in\nevery person who is an object of my affection. But to what purpose seek for\nreasons of approbation, where qualities are so necessary to our happiness,\nand so great a part in the perfection of our nature? We must cease to\nesteem ourselves, and to distinguish what is excellent, when such\nqualifications incur our neglect.\n\nA person of an affectionate mind, possessed of a maxim, that he himself, as\nan individual, is no more than a part of the whole that demands his regard,\nhas found, in that principle, a sufficient foundation for all the virtues;\nfor a contempt of animal pleasures, that would supplant his principal\nenjoyment; for an equal contempt of danger or pain, that come to stop his\npursuits of public good. \"A vehement and steady affection magnifies its\nobject, and lessens every difficulty or danger that stands in the way.\"\n\"Ask those who have been in love,\" says Epictetus, \"they will know that I\nspeak the truth.\"\n\n\"I have before me,\" says another eminent moralist, [Footnote: Persian\nLetters.] \"an idea of justice, which if I could follow in every instance, I\nshould think myself the most happy of men.\" And it is of consequence to\ntheir happiness, as well as to their conduct, if those can be disjoined,\nthat men should have this idea properly formed. It is perhaps but another\nname for that good of mankind, which the virtuous are engaged to promote.\nIf virtue be the supreme good, its best and most signal effect is, to\ncommunicate and diffuse itself.\n\nTo distinguish men by the difference of their moral qualities, to espouse\none party from a sense of justice, to oppose another even with indignation\nwhen excited by iniquity, are the common indications of probity, and the\noperations of an animated, upright, and generous spirit. To guard against\nunjust partialities, and ill grounded antipathies; to maintain that\ncomposure of mind, which, without impairing its sensibility or ardour,\nproceeds in every instance with discernment and penetration, are the marks\nof a vigorous and cultivated spirit. To be able to follow the dictates of\nsuch a spirit through all the varieties of human life, and with a mind\nalways master of itself, in prosperity or adversity, and possessed of all\nits abilities, when the subjects in hazard are life, or freedom, as much as\nin treating simple questions of interest, are the triumphs of magnanimity,\nand true elevation of mind. \"The event of the day is decided. Draw this\njavelin from my body now,\" said Epaminondas, \"and let me bleed.\"\n\nIn what situation, or by what instruction, is this wonderful character to\nbe formed? Is it found in the nurseries of affectation, pertness, and\nvanity, from which fashion is propagated, and the genteel is announced? In\ngreat and opulent cities, where men vie with each other in equipage, dress,\nand the reputation of fortune? Is it within the admired precincts of a\ncourt, where we may learn to smile without being pleased, to caress without\naffection, to wound with the secret weapons of envy and jealousy, and to\nrest our personal importance on circumstances which we cannot always with\nhonour command? No: but in a situation where the great sentiments of the\nheart are awakened; where the characters of men, not their situations and\nfortunes, are the principal distinction; where the anxieties of interest,\nor vanity, perish in the blaze of more vigorous emotions; and where the\nhuman soul, having felt and recognised its objects, like an animal who has\ntasted the blood of his prey, cannot descend to pursuits that leave its\ntalents and its force unemployed.\n\nProper occasions alone operating on a raised and a happy disposition, may\nproduce this admirable effect, whilst mere instruction may always find\nmankind at a loss to comprehend its meaning, or insensible to its dictates.\nThe case, however, is not desperate, till we have formed our system of\npolitics, as well as manners; till we have sold our freedom for titles,\nequipage, and distinctions; till we see no merit but prosperity and power,\nno disgrace but poverty and neglect. What charm of instruction can cure the\nmind that is stained with this disorder? What syren voice can awaken a\ndesire of freedom, that is held to be meanness and a want of ambition? Or\nwhat persuasion can turn the grimace of politeness into real sentiments of\nhumanity and candour?\n\n\n\n\nSECTION VII.\n\nOF HAPPINESS.\n\n\nHaving had under our consideration the active powers and the moral\nqualities which distinguish the nature of man, is it still necessary that\nwe should treat of his happiness apart? This significant term, the most\nfrequent, and the most familiar, in our conversation, is, perhaps, on\nreflection, the least understood. It serves to express our satisfaction,\nwhen any desire is gratified; it is pronounced with a sigh, when our object\nis distant: it means what we wish to obtain, and what we seldom stay to\nexamine. We estimate the value of every subject by its utility, and its\ninfluence on happiness; but we think that utility itself, and happiness,\nrequire no explanation.\n\nThose men are commonly esteemed the happiest, whose desires are most\nfrequently ratified. But if, in reality, the possession of what they\ndesire, and a continued fruition, were requisite to happiness, mankind for\nthe most part would have reason to complain of their lot. What they call\ntheir enjoyments, are generally momentary; and the object of sanguine\nexpectation, when obtained, no longer continues to occupy the mind: a new\npassion succeeds, and the imagination, as before, is intent on a distant\nfelicity.\n\nHow many reflections of this sort are suggested by melancholy, or by the\neffects of that very languor and inoccupation into which we would willingly\nsink, under the notion of freedom from care and trouble?\n\nWhen we enter on a formal computation of the enjoyments or sufferings which\nare prepared for mankind, it is a chance but we find that pain, by its\nintenseness, its duration, or frequency, is greatly predominant. The\nactivity and eagerness with which we press from one stage of life to\nanother, our unwillingness to return on the paths we have trod, our\naversion in age to renew the frolics of youth, or to repeat in manhood the\namusements of children, have been accordingly stated as proofs, that our\nmemory of the past, and our feeling of the present, are equal subjects of\ndislike and displeasure. [Footnote: Maupertuis; Essai de Morale.]\n\nThis conclusion, however, like many others, drawn from our supposed\nknowledge of causes, does not correspond with experience in every street,\nin every village, in every field, the greater number of persons we meet,\ncarry an aspect that is cheerful or thoughtless, indifferent, composed,\nbusy or animated. The labourer whistles to his team, and the mechanic is at\nease in his calling; the frolicksome and gay feel a series of pleasures, of\nwhich we know not the source; even they who demonstrate the miseries of\nhuman life, when intent on their argument, escape from their sorrows, and\nfind a tolerable pastime in proving that men are unhappy.\n\nThe very terms _pleasure_ and _pain,_ perhaps, are equivocal; but\nif they are confined, as they appear to be in many of our reasonings, to\nthe mere sensations which have a reference to external objects, either in\nthe memory of the past, the feeling of the present, or the apprehension of\nthe future, it is a great error to suppose, that they comprehend all the\nconstituents of happiness or misery; or that the good humour of an ordinary\nlife is maintained by the prevalence of those pleasures, which have their\nseparate names, and are, on reflection, distinctly remembered.\n\nThe mind, during the greater part of its existence, is employed in active\nexertions, not in merely attending to its own feelings of pleasure or pain;\nand the list of its faculties, understanding, memory, foresight, sentiment,\nwill, and intention, only contains the names of its different operations.\n\nIf, in the absence of every sensation to which we commonly give the names\neither of _enjoyment_ or _suffering,_ our very existence may have\nits opposite qualities of _happiness_ or _misery;_ and if what we\ncall _pleasure_ or _pain,_ occupies but a small part of human\nlife, compared to what passes in contrivance and execution, in pursuits and\nexpectations, in conduct, reflection, and social engagements; it must\nappear, that our active pursuits, at least on account of their duration,\ndeserve the greater part of our attention. When their occasions have\nfailed, the demand is not for pleasure, but for something to do; and the\nvery complaints of a sufferer are not so sure a mark of distress, as the\nstare of the languid.\n\nWe seldom, however, reckon any task, which we are bound to perform, among\nthe blessings of life. We always aim at a period of pure enjoyment, or a\ntermination of trouble; and overlook the source from which most of our\npresent satisfactions are really drawn. Ask the busy, where is the\nhappiness to which they aspire? they will answer, perhaps, that it is to be\nfound in the object of some present pursuit. If we ask, why they are not\nmiserable in the absence of that happiness? they will say, that they hope\nto attain it. But is it hope alone that supports the mind is the midst of\nprecarious and uncertain prospects? And would assurance of success fill the\nintervals of expectation with more pleasing emotions? Give the huntsman his\nprey, give the gamester the gold which is staked on the game, that the one\nmay not need to fatigue his person, nor the other to perplex his mind, and\nboth will probably laugh at our folly: the one will stake his money anew,\nthat he may be perplexed; the other will turn his stag to the field, that\nhe may hear the cry of the dogs, and follow through danger and hardship.\nWithdraw the occupations of men, terminate their desires, existence is a\nburden, and the iteration of memory is a torment.\n\nThe men of this country, says one lady, should learn to sew and to knit; it\nwould hinder their time from being a burden to themselves, and to other\npeople. That is true, says another; for my part, though I never look\nabroad, I tremble at the prospect of bad weather; for then the gentlemen\ncome moping to us for entertainment; and the sight of a husband in\ndistress, is but a melancholy spectacle.\n\nThe difficulties and hardships of human life are supposed to detract from\nthe goodness of God; yet many of the pastimes men devise for themselves are\nfraught with difficulty and danger. The great inventor of the game of human\nlife, knew well how to accommodate the players. The chances are matter of\ncomplaint; but if these were removed, the game itself would no longer amuse\nthe parties. In devising, or in executing a plan, in being carried on the\ntide of emotion and sentiment, the mind seems to unfold its being, and to\nenjoy itself. Even where the end and the object are known to be of little\navail, the talents and the fancy are often intensely applied, and business\nor play may amuse them alike. We only desire repose to recruit our limited\nand our wasting force: when business fatigues, amusement is often but a\nchange of occupation. We are not always unhappy, even when we complain.\nThere is a kind of affliction which makes an agreeable state of the mind;\nand lamentation itself is sometimes an expression of pleasure. The painter\nand the poet have laid hold of this handle, and find, among the means of\nentertainment, a favourable reception for works that are composed to awaken\nour sorrows.\n\nTo a being of this description, therefore, it is a blessing to meet with\nincentives to action, whether in the desire of pleasure, or the aversion to\npain. His activity is of more importance than the very pleasure he seeks,\nand languor a greater evil than the suffering he shuns.\n\nThe gratifications of animal appetite are of short duration; and sensuality\nis but a distemper of the mind, which ought to be cured by remembrance, if\nit were not perpetually inflamed by hope. The chase is not more surely\nterminated by the death of the game, than the joys of the voluptuary by the\nmeans of completing his debauch. As a band of society, as a matter of\ndistant pursuit, the objects of sense make an important part in the system\nof human life. They lead us to fulfil the purposes of nature, in preserving\nthe individual, and in perpetuating the species; but to rely on their use\nas a principal constituent of happiness, were an error in speculation, and\nwould be still more an error in practice. Even the master of the seraglio,\nfor whom all the treasures of empire are extorted from the hoards of its\nfrighted inhabitants, for whom alone the choicest emerald and the diamond\nare drawn from the mine, for whom every breeze is enriched with perfumes,\nfor whom beauty is assembled from every quarter, and, animated by passions\nthat ripen under the vertical sun, is confined to the grate for his use, is\nstill, perhaps, more wretched than the very herd of the people, whose\nlabours and properties are devoted to relieve him of trouble, and to\nprocure him enjoyment.\n\nSensuality is easily overcome by any of the habits of pursuit which usually\nengage an active mind. When curiosity is awake, or when passion is excited,\neven in the midst of the feast when conversation grows warm, grows jovial,\nor serious, the pleasures of the table we know are forgotten. The boy\ncontemns them for play, and the man of age declines them for business.\n\nWhen we reckon the circumstances that correspond to the nature of any\nanimal, or to that of man in particular, such as safety, shelter, food, and\nthe other means of enjoyment, or preservation, we sometimes think that we\nhave found a sensible and a solid foundation on which to rest his felicity.\nBut those who are least disposed to moralize, observe, that happiness is\nnot connected with fortune, although fortune includes at once all the means\nof subsistence, and the means of sensual indulgence. The circumstances that\nrequire abstinence, courage, and conduct, expose us to hazard, and are in\ndescription of the painful kind; yet the able, the brave, and the ardent,\nseem most to enjoy themselves when placed in the midst of difficulties, and\nobliged to employ the powers they possess.\n\nSpinola being told, that Sir Francis Vere died of having nothing to do,\nsaid, \"That was enough to kill a general.\" [Footnote: Life of Lord\nHerbert.] How many are there to whom war itself is a pastime, who choose\nthe life of a soldier, exposed to dangers and continued fatigues; of a\nmariner, in conflict with every hardship, and bereft of every conveniency;\nof a politician, whose sport is the conduct of parties and factions; and\nwho, rather than be idle, will do the business of men and of nations for\nwhom he has not the smallest regard? Such men do not choose pain as\npreferable to pleasure, but they are incited by a restless disposition to\nmake continued exertions of capacity and resolution; they triumph in the\nmidst of their struggles; they droop, and they languish, when the occasion\nof their labour has ceased.\n\nWhat was enjoyment, in the sense of that youth, who, according to Tacitus,\nloved danger itself, not the rewards of courage? What is the prospect of\npleasure, when the sound of the horn or the trumpet, the cry of the dogs,\nor the shout of war, awaken the ardour of the sportsman and the soldier?\nThe most animating occasions of human life, are calls to danger and\nhardship, not invitations to safety and ease: and man himself, in his\nexcellence, is not an animal of pleasure, nor destined merely to enjoy what\nthe elements bring to his use; but like his associates, the dog and the\nhorse, to follow the exercises of his nature, in preference to what are\ncalled its enjoyments; to pine in the lap of ease and of affluence, and to\nexult in the midst of alarms that seem to threaten his being, in all which,\nhis disposition to action only keeps pace with the variety of powers with\nwhich he is furnished; and the most respectable attributes of his nature,\nmagnanimity, fortitude, and wisdom, carry a manifest reference to the\ndifficulties with which he is destined to struggle.\n\nIf animal pleasure becomes insipid when the spirit is roused by a different\nobject, it is well known, likewise, that the sense of pain is prevented by\nany vehement affection of the soul. Wounds received in a heat of passion,\nin the hurry, the ardour, or consternation of battle, are never felt till\nthe ferment of the mind subsides. Even torments, deliberately applied, and\nindustriously prolonged, are borne with firmness, and with an appearance of\nease, when the mind is possessed with some vigorous sentiment, whether of\nreligion, enthusiasm, or love to mankind. The continued mortifications of\nsuperstitious devotees in several ages of the Christian church; the wild\npenances, still voluntarily borne, during many years, by the religionists\nof the east; the contempt in which famine and torture are held by most\nsavage nations; the cheerful or obstinate patience of the soldier in the\nfield; the hardships endured by the sportsman in his pastime, show how much\nwe may err in computing the miseries of men, from the measures of trouble\nand of suffering they seem to incur. And if there be a refinement in\naffirming that their happiness is not to be measured by the contrary\nenjoyments, it is a refinement which was made by Regulus and Cincinnatus\nbefore the date of philosophy. Fabricius knew it while he had heard\narguments only on the opposite side. [Footnote: Plutarch in Vit. Pyrrh.] It\nis a refinement, which every boy knows at his play, and every savage\nconfirms, when he looks from his forest on the pacific city, and scorns the\nplantation, whose master he cares not to imitate.\n\nMan, it must be confessed, notwithstanding all this activity of his mind,\nis an animal in the full extent of that designation. When the body sickens,\nthe mind droops; and when the blood ceases to flow, the soul takes its\ndeparture. Charged with the care of his preservation, admonished by a sense\nof pleasure or pain, and guarded by an instinctive fear of death, nature\nhas not intrusted his safety to the mere vigilance of his understanding,\nnor to the government of his uncertain reflections.\n\nThe distinction betwixt mind and body is followed by consequences of the\ngreatest importance; but the facts to which we now refer, are not founded\non any tenets whatever. They are equally true, whether we admit or reject,\nthe distinction in question, or whether we suppose, that this living agent\nis formed of one, or is an assemblage of separate natures. And the\nmaterialist, by treating of man as of an engine, cannot make any change in\nthe state of his history. He is a being, who, by a multiplicity of visible\norgans, performs a variety of functions. He bends his joints, contracts or\nrelaxes his muscles in our sight. He continues the beating of the heart in\nhis breast, and the flowing of the blood to every part of his frame. He\nperforms other operations which we cannot refer to any corporeal organ. He\nperceives, he recollects, and forecasts; he desires, and he shuns; he\nadmires, and contemns. He enjoys his pleasures, or he endures his pain. All\nthese different functions, in some measure, go well or ill together. When\nthe motion of the blood is languid, the muscles relax, the understanding is\ntardy, and the fancy is dull: when distemper assails him, the physician\nmust attend no less to what he thinks, than, to what he eats, and examine\nthe returns of his passion, together with the strokes of his pulse.\n\nWith all his sagacity, his precautions, and his instincts, which are given\nto preserve his being, he partakes in the fate of other animals, and seems\nto be formed only that he may die. Myriads perish before they reach the\nperfection of their kind; and the individual, with an option to owe the\nprolongation of his temporary course to resolution and conduct, or to\nabject fear, frequently chooses the latter, and, by a habit of timidity,\nembitters the life he is so intent to preserve.\n\nMan, however, at times, exempted from this mortifying lot, seems to act\nwithout any regard to the length of his period. When he thinks intensely,\nor desires with ardour, pleasures and pains from any other quarter assail\nhim in vain. Even in his dying hour, the muscles acquire a tone from his\nspirit, and the mind seems to depart in its vigour, and in the midst of a\nstruggle to obtain the recent aim of its toil. Muley Moluck, borne on his\nlitter, and spent with disease, still fought the battle, in the midst of\nwhich he expired; and the last effort he made, with a finger on his lips,\nwas a signal to conceal his death; [Footnote: Verlot's Revolutions of\nPortugal] the precaution, perhaps, of all which he had hitherto taken, the\nmost necessary to prevent a defeat.\n\nCan no reflections aid us in acquiring this habit of the soul, so useful in\ncarrying us through many of the ordinary scenes of life? If we say, that\nthey cannot, the reality of its happiness is not the less evident. The\nGreeks and the Romans considered contempt of pleasure, endurance of pain,\nand neglect of life, as eminent qualities of a man, and a principal subject\nof discipline. They trusted, that the vigorous spirit would find worthy\nobjects on which to employ its force; and that the first step towards a\nresolute choice of such objects, was to shake off the meanness of a\nsolicitous and timorous mind.\n\nMankind, in general, have courted occasions to display their courage, and\nfrequently, in search of admiration, have presented a spectacle, which to\nthose who have ceased to regard fortitude on its own account, becomes a\nsubject of horror. Scevola held his arm in the fire, to shake the soul of\nPorsenna. The savage inures his body to the torture, that in the hour of\ntrial he may exult over his enemy. Even the Mussulman tears his flesh to\nwin the heart of his mistress, and comes in gaiety streaming with blood, to\nshew that he deserves her esteem. [Footnote: Letters of the Right\nHonourable Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.]\n\nSome nations carry the practice of inflicting, or of sporting with pain, to\na degree that is either cruel or absurd; others regard every prospect of\nbodily suffering as the greatest of evils; and in the midst of their\ntroubles, embitter every real affliction, with the terrors of a feeble and\ndejected imagination. We are not bound to answer for the follies of either,\nnor, in treating a question which relates to the nature of man, make an\nestimate of its strength or its weakness, from the habits or apprehensions\npeculiar to any nation or age.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION VIII.\n\nTHE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.\n\n\nWhoever has compared together the different conditions and manners of men,\nunder varieties of education or fortune, will be satisfied, that mere\nsituation does not constitute their happiness or misery; nor a diversity of\nexternal observances imply any opposition of sentiments on the subject of\nmorality. They express their kindness and their enmity, in different\nactions; but kindness or enmity is still the principal article of\nconsideration in human life. They engage in different pursuits, or\nacquiesce in different conditions; but act from passions nearly the same.\nThere is no precise measure of accommodation required to suit their\nconveniency, nor any degree of danger or safety under which they are\npeculiarly fitted to act. Courage and generosity, fear and envy, are not\npeculiar to any station or order of men; nor is there any condition in\nwhich some of the human race have not shown, that it is possible to employ,\nwith propriety, the talents and virtues of their species.\n\nWhat, then, is that mysterious thing called _Happiness_ which may have\nplace in such a variety of stations, and to which circumstances, in one age\nor nation thought necessary, are in another held to be destructive or of no\neffect? It is not the succession of mere animal pleasures, which, apart\nfrom the occupation or the company in which they engage us, can fill up but\na few moments in human life. On too frequent a repetition, those pleasures\nturn to satiety and disgust; they tear the constitution to which they are\napplied in excess, and, like the lightning of night, only serve to darken\nthe gloom through which they occasionally break. Happiness is not that\nstate of repose, or that imaginary freedom from care, which at a distance\nis so frequent an object of desire, but with its approach brings a tedium,\nor a languor, more unsupportable than pain itself. If the preceding\nobservations on this subject be just, it arises more from the pursuit, than\nfrom the attainment of any end whatever; and in every new situation to\nwhich we arrive, even in the course of a prosperous life, it depends more\non the degree in which our minds are properly employed, than it does on the\ncircumstances in which we are destined to act, on the materials which are\nplaced in our hands, or the tools with which we are furnished.\n\nIf this be confessed in respect to that class of pursuits which are\ndistinguished by the name of _amusement_, and which, in the case of\nmen who are commonly deemed the most happy, occupy the greater part of\nhuman life, we may apprehend, that it holds, much more than is commonly\nsuspected, in many cases of business, where the end to be gained, and not\nthe occupation, is supposed to have the principal value.\n\nThe miser himself, we are told, can sometimes consider the care of his\nwealth as a pastime, and has challenged his heir, to have more pleasure in\nspending, than he in amassing his fortune. With this degree of indifference\nto what may be the conduct of others; with this confinement of his care to\nwhat he has chosen as his own province, more especially if he has conquered\nin himself the passions of jealousy and envy, which tear the covetous mind;\nwhy may not the man whose object is money, be understood to lead a life of\namusement and pleasure, not only more entire than that of the spendthrift,\nbut even as much as the virtuoso, the scholar, the man of taste, or any of\nthat class of persons who have found out a method of passing their leisure\nwithout offence, and to whom the acquisitions made, or the works produced,\nin their several ways, perhaps, are as useless as the bag to the miser, or\nthe counter to those who play from mere dissipation at any game of skill or\nof chance?\n\nWe are soon tired of diversions that do not approach to the nature of\nbusiness; that is, that do not engage some passion, or give an exercise\nproportioned to our talents, and our faculties. The chace and the gaming\ntable have each their dangers and difficulties, to excite and employ the\nmind. All games of contention animate our emulation, and give a species of\nparty zeal. The mathematician is only to be amused with intricate problems,\nthe lawyer and the casuist with cases that try their subtilty, and occupy\ntheir judgment.\n\nThe desire of active engagements, like every other natural appetite, may be\ncarried to excess; and men may debauch in amusements, as well as in the use\nof wine, or other intoxicating liquors. At first, a trifling stake, and the\noccupation of a moderate passion, may have served to amuse the gamester;\nbut when the drug becomes familiar, it fails to produce its effect: The\nplay is made deep, and the interest increased, to awaken his attention; he\nis carried on by degrees, and in the end comes to seek for amusement, and\nto find it only in those passions of anxiety, hope, and despair, which are\nroused by the hazard into which he has thrown the whole of his fortunes.\n\nIf men can thus turn their amusements into a scene more serious and\ninteresting than that of business itself, it will be difficult to assign a\nreason why business, and many of the occupations of human life, independent\nof any distant consequences of future events, may not be chosen as an\namusement, and adopted on account of the pastime they bring. This is,\nperhaps, the foundation, on which, without the aid of reflection, the\ncontented and the cheerful have rested the gaiety of their tempers. It is,\nperhaps, the most solid basis of fortitude which any reflection can lay;\nand happiness itself is secured by making a certain species of conduct our\namusements; and, by considering life in the general estimate of its value,\nas well on every particular occasion, as a mere scene for the exercise of\nthe mind, and the engagements of the heart. \"I will try and attempt every\nthing,\" says Brutus; \"I will never cease to recal my country from this\nstate of servility. If the event be favourable, it will prove matter of joy\nto us all; if not, yet I, notwithstanding, shall rejoice.\" Why rejoice in a\ndisappointment? Why not be dejected, when his country was overwhelmed?\nBecause sorrow, perhaps, and dejection, can do no good. Nay, but they must\nbe endured when they come. And whence should they come to me? might the\nRoman say: I have followed my mind, and can follow it still. Events may\nhave changed the situation in which I am destined to act; but can they\nhinder my acting the part of a man? Shew me a situation in which a man can\nneither act nor die, and I will own he is wretched.\n\nWhoever has the force of mind steadily to view human life under this\naspect, has only to choose well his occupations, in order to command that\nstate of enjoyment, and freedom of soul, which probably constitute the\npeculiar felicity to which his active nature is destined.\n\nThe dispositions of men, and consequently their occupations, are commonly\ndivided into two principal classes; the selfish, and the social. The first\nare indulged in solitude; and if they carry a reference to mankind, it is\nthat of emulation, competition, and enmity. The second incline us to live\nwith our fellow creatures, and to do them good; they tend to unite the\nmembers of society together; they terminate in a mutual participation of\ntheir cares and enjoyments, and render the presence of men an occasion of\njoy. Under this class may be enumerated the passions of the sexes, the\naffections of parents and children, general humanity, or singular\nattachments; above all, that habit of the soul by which we consider\nourselves as but a part of some beloved community, and as but individual\nmembers of some society, whose general welfare is to us the supreme object\nof zeal, and the great rule of our conduct. This affection is a principle\nof candour, which knows no partial distinctions, and is confined to no\nbounds; it may extend its effects beyond our personal acquaintance; it may,\nin the mind, and in thought, at least, make us feel a relation to the\nuniverse, and to the whole creation of God. \"Shall any one,\" says\nAntoninus, \"love the city of Cecrops, and you not love the city of God?\"\n\nNo emotion of the heart is indifferent. It is either an act of vivacity and\njoy, or a feeling of sadness; a transport of pleasure, or a convulsion of\nanguish; and the exercises of our different dispositions, as well as their\ngratifications, are likely to prove matter of the greatest importance to\nour happiness or misery.\n\nThe individual is charged with the care of his animal preservation. He may\nexist in solitude, and, far removed from society, perform many functions of\nsense, imagination, and reason. He is even rewarded for the proper\ndischarge of those functions; and all the natural exercises which relate to\nhimself, as well as to his fellow creatures, not only occupy without\ndistressing him, but, in many instances, are attended with positive\npleasures, and fill up the hours of life with agreeable occupation.\n\nThere is a degree, however, in which we suppose that the care of ourselves\nbecomes a source of painful anxiety and cruel passions; in which it\ndegenerates into avarice, vanity, or pride; and in which, by fostering\nhabits of jealousy and envy, of fear and malice, it becomes as destructive\nof our own enjoyments, as it is hostile to the welfare of mankind. This\nevil, however, is not to be charged upon any excess in the care of\nourselves, but upon a mere mistake in the choice of our objects. We look\nabroad for a happiness which is to be found only in the qualities of the\nheart: we think ourselves dependent on accidents; and are therefore kept in\nsuspense and solicitude. We think ourselves dependent on the will of other\nmen; and are therefore servile and timid: we think our felicity is placed\nin subjects for which our fellow creatures are rivals and competitors; and\nin pursuit of happiness, we engage in those scenes of emulation, envy,\nhatred, animosity, and revenge, that lead to the highest pitch of distress.\nWe act, in short, as if to preserve ourselves were to retain our weakness,\nand perpetuate our sufferings. We charge the ills of a distempered\nimagination, and a corrupt heart, to the account of our fellow creatures,\nto whom we refer the pangs of our disappointment or malice; and while we\nfoster our misery, are surprised that the care of ourselves is attended\nwith no better effects. But he who remembers that he is by nature a\nrational being, and a member of society; that to preserve himself, is to\npreserve his reason, and to preserve the best feelings of his heart; will\nencounter with none of these inconveniencies; and in the care of himself,\nwill find subjects only of satisfaction and triumph.\n\nThe division of our appetites into benevolent and selfish, has probably, in\nsome degree, helped to mislead our apprehension on the subject of personal\nenjoyment and private good; and our zeal to prove that virtue is\ndisinterested, has not greatly promoted its cause. The gratification of a\nselfish desire, it is thought, brings advantage or pleasure to ourselves;\nthat of benevolence terminates in the pleasure or advantage of others:\nwhereas, in reality, the gratification of every desire is a personal\nenjoyment, and its value being proportioned to the particular quality or\nforce of the sentiment, it may happen that the same person may reap a\ngreater advantage from the good fortune he has procured to another, than\nfrom that he has obtained for himself.\n\nWhile the gratifications of benevolence, therefore, are as much our own as\nthose of any other desire whatever, the mere exercises of this disposition\nare, on many accounts, to be considered as the first and the principal\nconstituent of human happiness. Every act of kindness, or of care, in the\nparent to his child; every emotion of the heart, in friendship or in love,\nin public zeal, or general humanity, are so many acts of enjoyment and\nsatisfaction. Pity itself, and compassion, even grief and melancholy, when\ngrafted on some tender affection, partake of the nature of the stock; and\nif they are not positive pleasures, are at least pains of a peculiar\nnature, which we do not even wish to exchange but for a very real\nenjoyment, obtained in relieving our object. Even extremes in this class of\nour dispositions, as they are the reverse of hatred, envy, and malice, so\nthey are never attended with those excruciating anxieties, jealousies, and\nfears, which tear the interested mind; or if, in reality, any ill passion\narise from a pretended attachment to our fellow creatures, that attachment\nmay be safely condemned, as not genuine. If we be distrustful or jealous,\nour pretended affection is probably no more than a desire of attention and\npersonal consideration; a motive which frequently inclines us to be\nconnected with our fellow creatures; but to which we are as frequently\nwilling to sacrifice their happiness. We consider them as the tools of our\nvanity, pleasure, or interest; not as the parties on whom we may bestow the\neffects of our good will, and our love.\n\nA mind devoted to this class of its affections, being occupied with an\nobject that may engage it habitually, is not reduced to court the\namusements or pleasures with which persons of an ill temper are obliged to\nrepair their disgusts: and temperance becomes an easy task when\ngratifications of sense are supplanted by those of the heart. Courage, too,\nis most easily assumed, or is rather inseparable from that ardour of the\nmind, in society, friendship, or in public action, which makes us forget\nsubjects of personal anxiety or fear, and attend chiefly to the object of\nour zeal or affection, not to the trifling inconveniences, dangers, or\nhardships, which we ourselves may encounter in striving to maintain it.\n\nIt should seem, therefore, to be the happiness of man, to make his social\ndispositions the ruling spring of his occupations; to state himself as the\nmember of a community, for whose general good his heart may glow with an\nardent zeal, to the suppression of those personal cares which are the\nfoundation of painful anxieties, fear, jealousy, and envy; or, as Mr. Pope\nexpresses the same sentiment.\n\n  \"Man, like the generous vine, supported lives;\n  The strength he gains, is from th' embrace he gives.\"\n  [Footnote: The same maxim will apply throughout every part of\n  nature. _To love, is to enjoy pleasure: to hate, is to be\n  in pain._]\n\nWe commonly apprehend, that it is our duty to do kindnesses, and our\nhappiness to receive them; but if, in reality, courage, and a heart devoted\nto the good of mankind, are the constituents of human felicity, the\nkindness which is done infers a happiness in the person from whom it\nproceeds, not in him on whom it is bestowed; and the greatest good which\nmen possessed of fortitude and generosity can procure to their fellow\ncreatures, is a participation of this happy character.\n\nIf this be the good of the individual, it is likewise that of mankind; and\nvirtue no longer imposes a task by which we are obliged to bestow upon\nothers that good from which we ourselves refrain; but supposes, in the\nhighest degree, as possessed by ourselves, that state of felicity which we\nare required to promote in the world. \"You will confer the greatest benefit\non your city,\" says Epictetus, \"not by raising the roofs, but by exalting\nthe souls of your fellow citizens; for it is better that great souls should\nlive in small habitations, than that abject slaves should burrow in great\nhouses.\" [Footnote: Mrs. Carter's translation of the works of Epictetus.]\n\nTo the benevolent, the satisfaction of others is a ground of enjoyment; and\nexistence itself, in a world that is governed by the wisdom of God, is a\nblessing. The mind, freed from cares that lead to pusillanimity and\nmeanness, becomes calm, active, fearless, and bold; capable of every\nenterprise, and vigorous in the exercise of every talent, by which the\nnature of man is adorned. On this foundation was raised the admirable\ncharacter, which, during a certain period of their story, distinguished the\ncelebrated nations of antiquity, and rendered familiar and ordinary in\ntheir manners, examples of magnanimity, which, under governments less\nfavourable to the public affections, rarely occur; or which, without being\nmuch practised, or even understood, are made subjects of admiration and\nswelling panegyric. \"Thus,\" says Xenophon, \"died Thrasybulus; who indeed\nappears to have been a good man.\" What valuable praise, and how significant\nto those who know the story of this admirable person! The members of those\nillustrious states, from the habit of considering themselves as part of a\ncommunity, or at least as deeply involved with some order of men in the\nstate, were regardless of personal considerations: they had a perpetual\nview to objects which excite a great ardour in the soul; which led them to\nact perpetually in the view of their fellow citizens, and to practise those\narts of deliberation, elocution, policy, and war, on which the fortunes of\nnations, or of men, in their collective body, depend. To the force of mind\ncollected in this career, and to the improvements of wit which were made in\npursuing it, these nations owed, not only their magnanimity, and the\nsuperiority of their political and military conduct, but even the arts of\npoetry and literature, which among them were only the inferior appendages\nof a genius otherwise excited, cultivated, and refined.\n\nTo the ancient Greek, or the Roman, the individual was nothing, and the\npublic every thing. To the modern, in too many nations of Europe, the\nindividual is every thing, and the public nothing. The state is merely a\ncombination of departments, in which consideration, wealth, eminence, or\npower, are offered as the reward of service. It was the nature of modern\ngovernment, even in its first institution, to bestow on every individual a\nfixed station and dignity, which he was to maintain for himself. Our\nancestors, in rude ages, during the recess of wars from abroad, fought for\ntheir personal claims at home, and by their competitions, and the balance\nof their powers, maintained a kind of political freedom in the state, while\nprivate parties were subject to continual wrongs and oppressions. Their\nposterity, in times more polished, have repressed the civil disorders in\nwhich the activity of earlier ages chiefly consisted; but they employ the\ncalm they have gained, not in fostering a zeal for those laws, and that\nconstitution of government, to which they owe their protection, but in\npractising apart, and each for himself, the several arts of personal\nadvancement, or profit, which their political establishments may enable\nthem to pursue with success. Commerce, which may be supposed to comprehend\nevery lucrative art, is accordingly considered as the great object of\nnations, and the principal study of mankind.\n\nSo much are we accustomed to consider personal fortune as the sole object\nof care, that even under popular establishments, and in states where\ndifferent orders of men are summoned to partake in the government of their\ncountry, and where the liberties they enjoy cannot be long preserved,\nwithout vigilance and activity on the part of the subject; still they, who,\nin the vulgar phrase, have not their fortunes to make, are supposed to be\nat a loss for occupation, and betake themselves to solitary pastimes, or\ncultivate what they are pleased to call a taste for gardening, building,\ndrawing, or music. With this aid, they endeavour to fill up the blanks of a\nlistless life, and avoid the necessity of curing their languors by any\npositive service to their country, or to mankind.\n\nThe weak or the malicious are well employed in any thing that is innocent,\nand are fortunate in finding any occupation which prevents the effects of a\ntemper that would prey upon themselves, or upon their fellow creatures. But\nthey who are blessed with a happy disposition, with capacity and vigour,\nincur a real debauchery, by having any amusement that occupies an improper\nshare of their time; and are really cheated of their happiness, in being\nmade to believe, that any occupation or pastime is better fitted to amuse\nthemselves, than that which at the same time produces some real good to\ntheir fellow creatures.\n\nThis sort of entertainment, indeed, cannot be the choice of the mercenary,\nthe envious, or the malicious. Its value is known only to persons of an\nopposite temper; and to their experience alone, we appeal. Guided by mere\ndisposition, and without the aid of reflection, in business, in friendship,\nand in public life, they often acquit themselves well; and borne with\nsatisfaction on the tide of their emotions and sentiments, enjoy the\npresent hour, without recollection of the past, or hopes of the future. It\nis in speculation, not in practice, they are made to discover, that virtue\nis a task of severity and self denial.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION IX.\n\nOF NATIONAL FELICITY.\n\n\nMan is, by nature, the member of a community; and when considered in this\ncapacity, the individual appears to be no longer made for himself. He must\nforego his happiness and his freedom, where these interfere with the good\nof society. He is only part of a whole; and the praise we think due to his\nvirtue, is but a branch of that more general commendation we bestow on the\nmember of a body, on the part of a fabric, or engine, for being well fitted\nto occupy its place, and to produce its effect.\n\nIf this follow from the relation of a part to its whole, and if the public\ngood be the principal object with individuals, it is likewise true, that\nthe happiness of individuals is the great end of civil society; for, in\nwhat sense can a public enjoy any good, if its members, considered apart,\nbe unhappy?\n\nThe interests of society, however, and of its members, are easily\nreconciled. If the individual owe every degree of consideration to the\npublic, he receives, in paying that very consideration, the greatest\nhappiness of which his nature is capable; and the greatest blessing the\npublic can bestow on its members, is to keep them attached to itself. That\nis the most happy state, which is most beloved by its subjects; and they\nare the most happy men, whose hearts are engaged to a community, in which\nthey find every object of generosity and zeal, and a scope to the exercise\nof every talent, and of every virtuous disposition.\n\nAfter we have thus found general maxims, the greater part of our trouble\nremains, their just application to particular cases. Nations are different\nin respect to their extent, numbers of people, and wealth; in respect to\nthe arts they practise, and the accommodations they have procured. These\ncircumstances may not only affect the manners of men; they even, in our\nesteem, come into competition with the article of manners itself; are\nsupposed to constitute a national felicity, independent of virtue; and give\na title, upon which we indulge our own vanity, and that of other nations,\nas we do that of private men, on the score of their fortunes and honours.\n\nBut if this way of measuring happiness, when applied to private men, be\nruinous and false, it is so no less when applied to nations. Wealth,\ncommerce, extent of territory, and the knowledge of arts, are, when\nproperly employed, the means of preservation, and the foundations of power.\nIf they fail in part, the nation is weakened; if they were entirely\nwithheld, the race would perish: Their tendency is to maintain numbers of\nmen, but not to constitute happiness. They will accordingly maintain the\nwretched as well as the happy. They answer one purpose, but are not\ntherefore sufficient for all; and are of little significance, when only\nemployed to maintain a timid, dejected, and servile people.\n\nGreat and powerful states are able to overcome and subdue the weak;\npolished and commercial nations have more wealth, and practise a greater\nvariety of arts, than the rude: but the happiness of men, in all cases\nalike, consists in the blessings of a candid, an active, and strenuous\nmind. And if we consider the state of society merely as that into which\nmankind are led by their propensities, as a state to be valued from its\neffect in preserving the species, in ripening their talents, and exciting\ntheir virtues, we need not enlarge our communities, in order to enjoy these\nadvantages. We frequently obtain them in the most remarkable degree, where\nnations remain independent, and are of a small extent.\n\nTo increase the numbers of mankind, may be admitted as a great and\nimportant object; but to extend the limits of any particular state, is not,\nperhaps, the way to obtain it: while we desire that our fellow creatures\nshould multiply, it does not follow, that the whole should, if possible, be\nunited under one head. We are apt to admire the empire of the Romans, as a\nmodel of national greatness and splendour; but the greatness we admire, in\nthis case, was ruinous to the virtue and the happiness of mankind; it was\nfound to be inconsistent with all the advantages which that conquering\npeople had formerly enjoyed in the articles of government and manners.\n\nThe emulation of nations proceeds from their division. A cluster of states,\nlike a company of men, find the exercise of their reason, and the test of\ntheir virtues, in the affairs they transact, upon a foot of equality, and\nof separate interest. The measures taken for safety, including great part\nof the national policy, are relative in every state to what is apprehended\nfrom abroad. Athens was necessary to Sparta in the exercise of her virtue,\nas steel is to flint in the production of fire; and if the cities of Greece\nhad been united under one head, we should never have heard of Epaminondas\nor Thrasybulus, of Lycurgus or Solon.\n\nWhen we reason in behalf of our species, therefore, although we may lament\nthe abuses which sometimes arise from independence, and opposition of\ninterest; yet, whilst any degrees of virtue remain with mankind, we cannot\nwish to crowd, under one establishment, numbers of men who may serve to\nconstitute several; or to commit affairs to the conduct of one senate, one\nlegislative or executive power, which, upon a distinct and separate\nfooting, might furnish an exercise of ability, and a theatre of glory to\nmany.\n\nThis may be a subject upon which no determinate rule can be given; but the\nadmiration of boundless dominion is a ruinous error; and in no instance,\nperhaps, is the real interest of mankind more entirely mistaken.\n\nThe measure of enlargement to be wished for in any particular state, is\noften to be taken from the condition of its neighbours. Where a number of\nstates are contiguous, they should be near an equality, in order that they\nmay be mutually objects of respect and consideration, and in order that\nthey may possess that independence in which the political life of a nation\nconsists. When the kingdoms of Spain were united, when the great fiefs in\nFrance were annexed to the crown, it was no longer expedient for the\nnations of Great Britain to continue disjoined.\n\nThe small republics of Greece, indeed, by their subdivisions, and the\nbalance of their power, found almost in every village the object of\nnations. Every little district was a nursery of excellent men, and what is\nnow the wretched corner of a great empire, was the field on which mankind\nhave reaped their principal honours. But in modern Europe, republics of a\nsimilar extent are like shrubs, under the shade of a taller wood, choaked\nby the neighbourhood of more powerful states. In their case, a certain\ndisproportion of force frustrates, in a great measure, the advantage of\nseparation. They are like the trader in Poland, who is the more despicable,\nand the less secure, that he is neither master nor slave.\n\nIndependent communities, in the mean time, however weak, are averse to a\ncoalition, not only where it comes with an air of imposition, or unequal\ntreaty, but even where it implies no more than the admission of new members\nto an equal share of consideration with the old. The citizen has no\ninterest in the annexation of kingdoms; he must find his importance\ndiminished, as the state is enlarged. But ambitious men, under the\nenlargement of territory, find a more plentiful harvest of power, and of\nwealth, while government itself is an easier task. Hence the ruinous\nprogress of empire; and hence free nations, under the show of acquiring\ndominion, suffer themselves, in the end, to be yoked with the slaves they\nhad conquered.\n\nOur desire to augment the force of a nation is the only pretext for\nenlarging its territory; but this measure, when pursued to extremes, seldom\nfails to frustrate itself.\n\nNotwithstanding the advantage of numbers, and superior resources in war,\nthe strength of a nation is derived from the character, not from the\nwealth, nor from the multitude of its people. If the treasure of a state\ncan hire numbers of men, erect ramparts, and furnish the implements of war;\nthe possessions of the fearful are easily seized; a timorous multitude\nfalls into rout of itself; ramparts may be scaled where they are not\ndefended by valour; and arms are of consequence only in the hands of the\nbrave. The band to which Agesilaus pointed as the wall of his city, made a\ndefence for their country more permanent, and more effectual, than the rock\nand the cement with which other cities were fortified.\n\nWe should owe little to that statesman, who were to contrive a defence that\nmight supersede the external uses of virtue. It is wisely ordered for man,\nas a rational being, that the employment of reason is necessary to his\npreservation; it is fortunate for him, in the pursuit of distinction, that\nhis personal consideration depends on his character; and it is fortunate\nfor nations, that, in order to be powerful and safe, they must strive to\nmaintain the courage, and cultivate the virtues, of their people. By the\nuse of such means, they at once gain their external ends, and are happy.\n\nPeace and unanimity are commonly considered as the principal foundations of\npublic felicity; yet the rivalship of separate communities, and the\nagitations of a free people, are the principles of political life, and the\nschool of men. How shall we reconcile these jarring and opposite tenets? It\nis, perhaps, not necessary to reconcile them. The pacific may do what they\ncan to allay the animosities, and to reconcile the opinions, of men; and it\nwill be happy if they can succeed in repressing their crimes, and in\ncalming the worst of their passions. Nothing, in the mean time, but\ncorruption or slavery can suppress the debates that subsist among men of\nintegrity, who bear an equal part in the administration of state.\n\nA perfect agreement in matters of opinion is not to be obtained in the most\nselect company; and if it were, what would become of society? \"The\nSpartan legislator,\" says Plutarch, \"appears to have sown the seeds of\nvariance and dissention among his countrymen: he meant that good citizens\nshould be led to dispute; he considered emulation as the brand by which\ntheir virtues were kindled; and seemed to apprehend, that a complaisance,\nby which men submit their opinions without examination, is a principal\nsource of corruption.\"\n\nForms of government are supposed to decide of the happiness or misery of\nmankind. But forms of government must be varied, in order to suit the\nextent, the way of subsistence, the character, and the manners of different\nnations. In some cases, the multitude may be suffered to govern themselves;\nin others they must be severely restrained. The inhabitants of a village,\nin some primitive age, may have been safely entrusted to the conduct of\nreason, and to the suggestion of their innocent views; but the tenants of\nNewgate can scarcely be trusted, with chains locked to their bodies, and\nbars of iron fixed to their legs. How is it possible, therefore, to find\nany single form of government that would suit mankind in every condition?\n\nWe proceed, however, in the following section, to point out the\ndistinctions, and to explain the language which occurs in this place, on\nthe head of different models for subordination and government.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION X.\n\nTHE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.\n\n\nIt is a common observation, that mankind were originally equal. They have\nindeed by nature equal right to their preservation, and to the use of their\ntalents; but they are fitted for different stations; and when they are\nclassed by a rule taken from this circumstance, they suffer no injustice on\nthe side of their natural rights. It is obvious, that some mode of\nsubordination is as necessary to men as society itself; and this, not only\nto attain the ends of government, but to comply with an order established\nby nature.\n\nPrior to any political institution whatever, men are qualified by a great\ndiversity of talents, by a different tone of the soul, and ardour of the\npassions, to act a variety of parts. Bring them together, each will find\nhis place. They censure or applaud in a body; they consult and deliberate\nin more select parties; they take or give an ascendant as individuals; and\nnumbers are by this means fitted to act in company, and to preserve their\ncommunities, before any formal distribution of office is made. We are\nformed to act in this manner; and if we have any doubts with relation to\nthe rights of government in general, we owe our perplexity more to the\nsubtilties of the speculative, than to any uncertainty in the feelings of\nthe heart. Involved in the resolutions of our company, we move with the\ncrowd before we have determined the rule by which its will is collected. We\nfollow a leader, before we have settled the ground of his pretensions, or\nadjusted the form of his election; and it is not till after mankind have\ncommitted many errors in the capacities of magistrate and subject, that\nthey think of making government itself a subject of rules.\n\nIf, therefore, in considering the variety of forms under which societies\nsubsist, the casuist is pleased to inquire, what title one man, or any\nnumber of men, have to control his actions? he may be answered, none at\nall, provided that his actions have no effect to the prejudice of his\nfellow creatures; but if they have, the rights of defence, and the\nobligation to repress the commission of wrongs, belong to collective\nbodies, as well as to individuals. Many rude nations, having no formal\ntribunals for the judgment of crimes, assemble, when alarmed by any\nflagrant offence, and take their measures with the criminal as they would\nwith an enemy. But will this consideration, which confirms the title to\nsovereignty, where it is exercised by the society in its collective\ncapacity, or by those to whom the powers of the whole are committed,\nlikewise support the claim to dominion, wherever it is casually lodged, or\neven where it is only maintained by force?\n\nThis question may be sufficiently answered, by observing, that a right to\ndo justice, and to do good, is competent to every individual, or order of\nmen; and that the exercise of this right has no limits but in the defect of\npower. Whoever, therefore, has power, may employ it to this extent; and no\nprevious convention is required to justify his conduct. But a right to do\nwrong, or to commit injustice, is an abuse of language, and a contradiction\nin terms. It is no more competent to the collective body of a people, than\nit is to any single usurper. When we admit such a prerogative in the case\nof any sovereign, we can only mean to express the extent of his power, and\nthe force with which he is enabled to execute his pleasure. Such a\nprerogative is assumed by the leader of banditti at the head of his gang,\nor by a despotic prince at the head of his troops. When the sword is\npresented by either, the traveller or the inhabitant may submit from a\nsense of necessity or fear; but he lies under no obligation from a motive\nof duty or justice.\n\nThe multiplicity of forms, in the mean time, which different societies\noffer to our view, is almost infinite. The classes into which they\ndistribute their members, the manner in which they establish the\nlegislative and executive powers, the imperceptible circumstances by which\nthey are led to have different customs, and to confer on their governors\nunequal measures of power and authority, give rise to perpetual\ndistinctions between constitutions the most nearly resembling each other,\nand give to human affairs a variety in detail, which, in its full extent,\nno understanding can comprehend, and no memory retain.\n\nIn order to have a general and comprehensive knowledge of the whole, we\nmust be determined on this, as on every other subject, to overlook many\nparticulars and singularities, distinguishing different governments; to fix\nour attention on certain points, in which many agree; and thereby establish\na few general heads, under which the subject may be distinctly considered.\nWhen we have marked the characteristics which form the general points of\ncoincidence; when we have pursued them to their consequences in the several\nmodes of legislation, execution, and judicature, in the establishments\nwhich relate to police, commerce, religion, or domestic life; we have made\nan acquisition of knowledge, which, though it does not supersede the\nnecessity of experience, may serve to direct our inquiries, and, in the\nmidst of affairs, give an order and a method for the arrangement of\nparticulars that occur to our observation.\n\nWhen I recollect what the President Montesquieu has written, I am at a loss\nto tell, why I should treat of human affairs; but I too am instigated by my\nreflections, and my sentiments; and I may utter them more to the\ncomprehension of ordinary capacities, because I am more on the level of\nordinary men. If it be necessary to pave the way for what follows on the\ngeneral history of nations, by giving some account of the heads under which\nvarious forms of government may be conveniently ranged, the reader should\nperhaps be referred to what has been already delivered on the subject by\nthis profound politician and amiable moralist. In his writings will be\nfound, not only the original of what I am now, for the sake of order, to\ncopy from him, but likewise probably the source of many observations,\nwhich, in different places, I may, under the belief of invention, have\nrepeated, without quoting their author.\n\nThe ancient philosophers treated of government commonly under three heads;\nthe Democratic, the Aristocratic, and the Despotic. Their attention was\nchiefly occupied with the varieties of republican government, and they paid\nlittle regard to a very important distinction, which Mr. Montesquieu has\nmade, between despotism and monarchy. He too has considered government as\nreducible to three general forms; and, \"to understand the nature of each,\"\nhe observes, \"it is sufficient to recal ideas which are familiar with men\nof the least reflection, who admit three definitions, or rather three\nfacts: that a republic is a state in which the people in a collective body,\nor a part of the people, possess the sovereign power; that monarchy is that\nin which one man governs, according to fixed and determinate laws; and a\ndespotism is that in which one man, without law, or rule of administration,\nby the mere impulse of will or caprice, decides, and carries every thing\nbefore him.\"\n\nRepublics admit of a very material distinction, which is pointed out in the\ngeneral definition; that between democracy and aristocracy. In the first,\nsupreme power remains in the hands of the collective body. Every office of\nmagistracy, at the nomination of this sovereign, is open to every citizen;\nwho, in the discharge of his duty, becomes the minister of the people, and\naccountable to them for every object of his trust.\n\nIn the second, the sovereignty is lodged in a particular class, or order of\nmen; who, being once named, continue for life; or, by the hereditary\ndistinctions of birth and fortune, are advanced to a station of permanent\nsuperiority. From this order, and by their nomination, all the offices of\nmagistracy are filled; and in the different assemblies which they\nconstitute, whatever relates to the legislation, the execution, or\njurisdiction, is finally determined.\n\nMr. Montesquieu has pointed out the sentiments or maxims from which men\nmust be supposed to act under these different governments.\n\nIn democracy, they must love equality; they must respect the rights of\ntheir fellow citizens; they must unite by the common ties of affection to\nthe state.\n\nIn forming personal pretensions, they must be satisfied with that degree of\nconsideration they can procure by their abilities fairly measured with\nthose of an opponent; they must labour for the public without hope of\nprofit; they must reject every attempt to create a personal dependence.\nCandour, force, and elevation of mind, in short, are the props of\ndemocracy; and virtue is the principle of conduct required to its\npreservation.\n\nHow beautiful a pre-eminence on the side of popular government! And how\nardently should mankind wish for the form, if it tended to establish the\nprinciple, or were, in every instance, a sure indication of its presence!\n\nBut perhaps we must have possessed the principle, in order, with any hopes\nof advantage, to receive the form; and where the first is entirely\nextinguished, the other may be fraught with evil, if any additional evil\ndeserves to be shunned where men are already unhappy.\n\nAt Constantinople or Algiers, it is a miserable spectacle when men pretend\nto act on a foot of equality: they only mean to shake off the restraints of\ngovernment, and to seize as much as they can of that spoil, which, in\nordinary times, is engrossed by the master they serve.\n\nIt is one advantage of democracy, that the principal ground of distinction\nbeing personal qualities, men are classed according to their abilities, and\nto the merit of their actions. Though all have equal pretensions to power,\nyet the state is actually governed by a few. The majority of the people,\neven in their capacity of sovereign, only pretend to employ their senses;\nto feel, when pressed by national inconveniencies, or threatened by public\ndangers; and with the ardour which is apt to arise in crowded assemblies,\nto urge the pursuits in which they are engaged, or to repel the attacks\nwith which they are menaced.\n\nThe most perfect equality of rights can never exclude the ascendant of\nsuperior minds, nor the assemblies of a collective body govern without the\ndirection of select councils. On this as account, popular government may be\nconfounded with aristocracy. But this alone does not constitute the\ncharacter of aristocratical government. Here the members of the state are\ndivided, at least, into two classes; of which one is destined to command,\nthe other to obey. No merits or defects can raise or sink a person from one\nclass to the other. The only effect of personal character is, to procure to\nthe individual a suitable degree of consideration with his own order, not\nto vary his rank. In one situation he is taught to assume, in another to\nyield the pre-eminence. He occupies the station of patron or client, and is\neither the sovereign or the subject of his country. The whole citizens may\nunite in executing the plans of state, but never in deliberating on its\nmeasures, or enacting its laws. What belongs to the whole people under\ndemocracy, is here confined to a part. Members of the superior order, are\namong themselves, possibly, classed according to their abilities, but\nretain a perpetual ascendant over those of inferior station. They are at\nonce the servants and the masters of the state, and pay, with their\npersonal attendance and with their blood, for the civil or military honours\nthey enjoy.\n\nTo maintain for himself, and to admit in his fellow citizen, a perfect\nequality of privilege and station, is no longer the leading maxim of the\nmember of such a community. The rights of men are modified by their\ncondition. One order claims more than it is willing to yield; the other\nmust be ready to yield what it does not assume to itself; and it is with\ngood reason that Mr. Montesquieu gives to the principle of such governments\nthe name of _moderation_, not of _virtue_.\n\nThe elevation of one class is a moderated arrogance; the submission of the\nother a limited deference. The first must be careful, by concealing the\ninvidious part of their distinction, to palliate what is grievous in the\npublic arrangement, and by their education, their cultivated manners, and\nimproved talents, to appear qualified for the stations they occupy. The\nother, must be taught to yield, from respect and personal attachment, what\ncould not otherwise be extorted by force. When this moderation fails on\neither side, the constitution totters. A populace enraged to mutiny, may\nclaim the right of equality to which they are admitted in democratical\nstates; or a nobility bent on dominion, may choose among themselves, or\nfind already pointed out to them, a sovereign, who, by advantages of\nfortune, popularity, or abilities, is ready to seize for his own family,\nthat envied power which has already carried his order beyond the limits of\nmoderation, and infected particular men with a boundless ambition.\nMonarchies have accordingly been found with the recent marks of\naristocracy. There, however, the monarch is only the first among the\nnobles; he must be satisfied with a limited power; his subjects are ranged\ninto classes; he finds on every quarter a pretence to privilege that\ncircumscribes his authority; and he finds a force sufficient to confine his\nadministration within certain bounds of equity and determinate laws. Under\nsuch governments, however, the love of equality is preposterous, and\nmoderation itself is unnecessary. The object of every rank is precedency,\nand every order may display its advantages to their full extent. The\nsovereign himself owes great part of his authority to the sounding titles\nand the dazzling equipage which he exhibits in public. The subordinate\nranks lay claim to importance by a like exhibition, and for that purpose\ncarry in every instant the ensigns of their birth, or the ornaments of\ntheir fortune. What else could mark out to the individual the relation in\nwhich he stands to his fellow subjects, or distinguish the numberless ranks\nthat fill up the interval between the state of the sovereign and that of\nthe peasant? Or what else could, in states of a great extent, preserve any\nappearance of order, among members disunited by ambition and interest, and\ndestined to form a community, without the sense of any common concern?\n\nMonarchies are generally found where the state is enlarged, in population\nand in territory, beyond the numbers and dimensions that are consistent\nwith republican government. Together with these circumstances, great\ninequalities arise in the distribution of property; and the desire of\npre-eminence becomes the predominant passion. Every rank would exercise its\nprerogative, and the sovereign is perpetually tempted to enlarge his own;\nif subjects, who despair of precedence, plead for equality, he is willing\nto favour their claims, and to aid them in reducing pretensions, with which\nhe himself is, on many occasions, obliged to contend. In the event of such\na policy, many invidious distinctions and grievances peculiar to\nmonarchical government, may, in appearance, be removed; but the state of\nequality to which the subjects approach is that of slaves, equally\ndependent on the will of a master, not that of freemen, in a condition to\nmaintain their own.\n\nThe principle of monarchy, according to Montesquieu, is honour. Men may\npossess good qualities, elevation of mind, and fortitude; but the sense of\nequality, that will hear no encroachment on the personal rights of the\nmeanest citizen; the indignant spirit, that will not court a protection,\nnor accept as a favour what is due as a right; the public affection, which\nis founded on the neglect of personal considerations, are neither\nconsistent with the preservation of the constitution, nor agreeable to the\nhabits acquired in any station assigned to its members.\n\nEvery condition is possessed of peculiar dignity, and points out a\npropriety of conduct, which men of station are obliged to maintain. In the\ncommerce of superiors and inferiors, it is the object of ambition, and of\nvanity, to refine on the advantages of rank; while, to facilitate the\nintercourse of polite society, it is the aim of good breeding to disguise,\nor reject them.\n\nThough the objects of consideration are rather the dignities of station\nthan personal qualities; though friendship cannot be formed by mere\ninclination, nor alliances by the mere choice of the heart; yet men so\nunited, and even without changing their order, are highly susceptible of\nmoral excellence, or liable to many different degrees of corruption. They\nmay act a vigorous part as members of the state, an amiable one in the\ncommerce of private society; or they may yield up their dignity as\ncitizens, even while they raise their arrogance and presumption as private\nparties.\n\nIn monarchy, all orders of men derive their honours from the crown; but\nthey continue to hold them as a right, and they exercise a subordinate\npower in the state, founded on the permanent rank they enjoy, and on the\nattachment of those whom they are appointed to lead and protect. Though\nthey do not force themselves into national councils and public assemblies,\nand though the name of senate is unknown, yet the sentiments they adopt\nmust have weight with the sovereign; and every individual, in his separate\ncapacity, in some measure, deliberates for his country. In whatever does\nnot derogate from his rank, he has an arm ready to serve the community; in\nwhatever alarms his sense of honour, he has aversions and dislikes, which\namount to a negative on the will of his prince.\n\nEntangled together by the reciprocal ties of dependence and protection,\nthough not combined by the sense of a common interest, the subjects of\nmonarchy, like those of republics, find themselves occupied as the members\nof an active society, and engaged to treat with their fellow creatures on a\nliberal footing. If those principles of honour which save the individual\nfrom servility in his own person, or from becoming an engine of oppression\nin the hands of another, should fail; if they should give way to the maxims\nof commerce, to the refinements of a supposed philosophy, or to the\nmisplaced ardours of a republican spirit; if they are betrayed by the\ncowardice of subjects, or subdued by the ambition of princes; what must\nbecome of the nations of Europe?\n\nDespotism is monarchy corrupted, in which a court and a prince in\nappearance remain, but in which every subordinate rank is destroyed; in\nwhich the subject is told, that he has no rights; that he cannot possess\nany property, nor fill any station independent of the momentary will of his\nprince. These doctrines are founded on the maxims of conquest; they must be\ninculcated with the whip and the sword; and are best received under the\nterror of chains and imprisonment. Fear, therefore, is the principle which\nqualifies the subject to occupy his station; and the sovereign, who holds\nout the ensigns of terror so freely to others, has abundant reason to give\nthis passion a principal place with himself. That tenure which he has\ndevised for the rights of others, is soon applied to his own; and from his\neager desire to secure, or to extend his power, he finds it become, like\nthe fortunes of his people, a creature of mere imagination and unsettled\ncaprice.\n\nWhilst we thus, with so much accuracy, can assign the ideal limits that may\ndistinguish constitutions of government, we find them, in reality, both in\nrespect to the principle and the form, variously blended together. In what\nsociety are not men classed by external distinctions, as well as personal\nqualities? In what state are they not actuated by a variety of principles;\njustice, honour, moderation, and fear? It is the purpose of science not to\ndisguise this confusion in its object, but, in the multiplicity and\ncombination of particulars, to find the principal points which deserve our\nattention; and which, being well understood, save us from the embarrassment\nwhich the varieties of singular cases might otherwise create. In the same\ndegree in which governments require men to act from principles of virtue,\nof honour, or of fear, they are more or less fully comprised under the\nheads of republic, monarchy, or despotism, and the general theory is more\nor less applicable to their particular case.\n\nForms of government, in fact, mutually approach or recede by many, and\noften insensible gradations. Democracy, by admitting certain inequalities\nof rank, approaches to aristocracy. In popular, as well as aristocratical\ngovernments, particular men; by their personal authority, and sometimes by\nthe credit of their family, have maintained a species of monarchical power.\nThe monarch is limited in different degrees: even the despotic prince is\nonly that monarch whose subjects claim the fewest privileges, or who is\nhimself best prepared to subdue them by force. All these varieties are but\nsteps in the history of mankind, and, mark the fleeting and transient\nsituations through which they have passed; while supported by virtue, or\ndepressed by vice.\n\nPerfect democracy and despotism appear to be the opposite extremes at which\nconstitutions of government farthest recede from each other. Under the\nfirst, a perfect virtue is required; under the second, a total corruption\nis supposed: yet, in point of mere form, there being nothing fixed in the\nranks and distinctions of men beyond the casual and temporary possession of\npower, societies easily pass from a condition in which every individual has\nan equal title to reign, into one in which they are equally destined to\nserve. The same qualities in both, courage, popularity, address, and\nmilitary conduct, raise the ambitious to eminence. With these qualities,\nthe citizen or the slave easily passes from the ranks to the command of an\narmy, from an obscure to an illustrious station. In either, a single person\nmay rule with unlimited sway; and in both, the populace may break down\nevery barrier of order, and restraint of law.\n\nIf we suppose that the equality established among the subjects of a\ndespotic state has inspired its members with confidence, intrepidity, and\nthe love of justice; the despotic prince, having ceased to be an object of\nfear, must sink among the crowd. If, on the contrary, the personal\nequality which is enjoyed by the members of a democratical state, should be\nvalued merely as an equal pretension to the objects of avarice and\nambition, the monarch may start up anew, and be supported by those who mean\nto share in his profits. When the rapacious and mercenary assemble in\nparties, it is of no consequence under what leader they inlist, whether\nC\u00e6sar or Pompey; the hopes of rapine or pay are the only motives from which\nthey become attached to either.\n\nIn the disorder of corrupted societies, the scene has been frequently\nchanged from democracy to despotism, and from the last too, in its turn, to\nthe first. From amidst the democracy of corrupt men, and from a scene of\nlawless confusion, the tyrant ascends a throne with arms reeking in blood.\nBut his abuses, or his weaknesses, in the station he has gained, in their\nturn awaken and give way to the spirit of mutiny and revenge. The cries of\nmurder and desolation, which in the ordinary course of military government\nterrified the subject in his private retreat, sound through the vaults, and\npierce the grates and iron doors of the seraglio. Democracy seems to revive\nin a scene of wild disorder and tumult; but both the extremes are but the\ntransient fits of paroxysm or languor in a distempered state.\n\nIf men be anywhere arrived at this measure of depravity, there appears no\nimmediate hope of redress. Neither the ascendancy of the multitude, nor\nthat of the tyrant, will secure the administration of justice; neither the\nlicense of mere tumult, nor the calm of dejection and servitude, will teach\nthe citizen that he was born for candour and affection to his fellow\ncreatures. And if the speculative would find that habitual state of war\nwhich they are sometimes pleased to honour with the name of _the state of\nnature_, they will find it in the contest that subsists between the\ndespotical prince and his subjects, not in the first approaches of a rude\nand simple tribe to the condition and the domestic arrangement of nations.\n\n\n\nAN ESSAY ON THE HISTORY OF CIVIL SOCIETY.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPART SECOND.\n\nOF THE HISTORY OF RUDE NATIONS.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n\nSECTION I.\n\nOF THE INFORMATIONS ON THIS SUBJECT WHICH ARE DERIVED FROM ANTIQUITY.\n\n\nThe history of mankind is confined within a limited period, and from every\nquarter brings an intimation that human affairs have had a beginning.\nNations, distinguished by the possession of arts, and the felicity of their\npolitical establishments, have been derived from a feeble original, and\nstill preserve in their story the indications of a slow and gradual\nprogress, by which this distinction was gained. The antiquities of every\npeople, however diversified, and however disguised, contain the same\ninformation on this point.\n\nIn sacred history, we find the parents of the species, as yet a single\npair, sent forth to inherit the earth, and to force a subsistence for\nthemselves amidst the briars and thorns which were made to abound on its\nsurface. Their race, which was again reduced to a few, had to struggle with\nthe dangers that await a weak and infant species; and after many ages\nelapsed, the most respectable nations took their rise from one or a few\nfamilies that had pastured their flocks in the desert.\n\nThe Grecians derive their own origin from unsettled tribes, whose frequent\nmigrations are a proof of the rude and infant state of their communities;\nand whose warlike exploits, so much celebrated in story, only exhibit the\nstruggles with which they disputed the possession of a country they\nafterwards, by their talent for fable, by their arts, and their policy,\nrendered so famous in the history of mankind.\n\nItaly must have been divided into many rude and feeble cantons, when a band\nof robbers, as we are taught to consider them, found a secure settlement on\nthe banks of the Tiber, and when a people, yet composed only of one sex,\nsustained the character of a nation. Rome, for many ages, saw, from her\nwalls, on every side, the territory of her enemies, and found as little to\ncheck or to stifle the weakness of her infant power, as she did afterwards\nto restrain the progress of her extended empire. Like a Tartar or a\nScythian horde, which had pitched on a settlement, this nascent community\nwas equal, if not superior, to every tribe in its neighbourhood; and the\noak which has covered the field with its shade, was once a feeble plant in\nthe nursery, and not to be distinguished from the weeds by which its early\ngrowth was restrained.\n\nThe Gauls and the Germans are come to our knowledge with the marks of a\nsimilar condition; and the inhabitants of Britain, at the time of the first\nRoman invasions; resembled, in many things, the present natives of North\nAmerica: they were ignorant of agriculture; they painted their bodies; and\nused for clothing the skins of beasts.\n\nSuch, therefore, appears to have been the commencement of history with all\nnations, and in such circumstances are we to look for the original\ncharacter of mankind. The inquiry refers to a distant period, and every\nconclusion should build on the facts which are preserved for our use. Our\nmethod, notwithstanding, too frequently, is to rest the whole on\nconjecture; to impute every advantage of our nature to those arts which we\nourselves possess; and to imagine, that a mere negation of all our virtues\nis a sufficient description of man in his original state. We are ourselves\nthe supposed standards of politeness and civilization; and where our own\nfeatures do not appear, we apprehend, that there is nothing which deserves\nto be known. But it is probable that here, as in many other cases, we are\nill qualified, from our supposed knowledge of causes, to prognosticate\neffects, or to determine what must have been the properties and operations,\neven of our own nature, in the absence of those circumstances in which we\nhave seen it engaged. Who would, from mere conjecture, suppose, that the\nnaked savage would be a coxcomb and a gamester? that he would be proud or\nvain, without the distinctions of title and fortune? and that his principal\ncare would be to adorn his person, and to find an amusement? Even if it\ncould be supposed that he would thus share in our vices, and, in the midst\nof his forest, vie with the follies which are practised in the town; yet no\none would be so bold as to affirm, that he would likewise, in any\ninstance, excel us in talents and virtues; that he would have a\npenetration, a force of imagination and elocution, an ardour of mind, an\naffection and courage, which the arts, the discipline, and the policy of\nfew nations would be able to improve. Yet these particulars are a part in\nthe description which is delivered by those who have had opportunities of\nseeing mankind in their rudest condition; and beyond the reach of such\ntestimony, we can neither safely take, nor pretend to give, information on\nthe subject.\n\nIf conjectures and opinions formed at a distance, have not sufficient\nauthority in the history of mankind, the domestic antiquities of every\nnation must, for this very reason, be received with caution. They are, for\nthe most part, the mere conjectures or the fictions of subsequent ages; and\neven where at first they contained some resemblance of truth, they still\nvary with the imagination of those by whom they are transmitted, and in\nevery generation receive a different form. They are made to bear the stamp\nof the times through which they have passed in the form of tradition, not\nof the ages to which their pretended descriptions relate. The information\nthey bring, is not like the light reflected from a mirror, which delineates\nthe object from which it originally came; but, like rays that come broken\nand dispersed from an opaque or unpolished surface, only give the colours\nand features of the body from which they were last reflected.\n\nWhen traditionary fables are rehearsed by the vulgar, they bear the marks\nof a national character; and though mixed with absurdities, often raise the\nimagination, and move the heart: when made the materials of poetry, and\nadorned by the skill and the eloquence of an ardent and superior mind, they\ninstruct the understanding, as well as engage the passions. It is only in\nthe management of mere antiquaries, or stript of the ornaments which the\nlaws of history forbid them to wear, that they become even unfit to amuse\nthe fancy, or to serve any purpose whatever.\n\nIt were absurd to quote the fable of the Iliad or the Odyssey, the legends\nof Hercules, Theseus, or Oedipus, as authorities in matter of fact relating\nto the history of mankind; but they may, with great justice, be cited to\nascertain what were the conceptions and sentiments, of the age in which\nthey were composed, or to characterize the genius of that people, with\nwhose imaginations they were blended, and by whom they were fondly\nrehearsed and admired.\n\nIn this manner fiction may be admitted to vouch for the genius of nations,\nwhile history has nothing to offer that is entitled to credit. The Greek\nfable accordingly conveying a character of its authors, throws light on\nsome ages of which no other record remains. The superiority of this people\nis indeed in no circumstance more evident than in the strain of their\nfictions, and in the story of those fabulous heroes, poets, and sages,\nwhose tales, being invented or embellished by an imagination already filled\nwith the subject for which the hero was celebrated, served to inflame that\nardent enthusiasm, with which so many different republics afterwards\nproceeded in the pursuit of every national object.\n\nIt was no doubt of great advantage to those nations, that their system of\nfable was original, and being already received in popular traditions,\nserved to diffuse those improvements of reason, imagination, and sentiment,\nwhich were afterwards, by men of the finest talents, made on the fable\nitself, or conveyed in its moral. The passions of the poet pervaded the\nminds of the people, and the conceptions of men of genius, being\ncommunicated to the vulgar, became the incentives of a national spirit.\n\nA mythology borrowed from abroad, a literature founded on references to a\nstrange country, and fraught with foreign allusions, are much more confined\nin their use: they speak to the learned alone; and though intended to\ninform the understanding, and to mend the heart, may, by being confined to\na few, have an opposite effect. They may foster conceit on the ruins of\ncommon sense, and render what was, at least innocently, sung by the\nAthenian mariner at his oar, or rehearsed by the shepherd in attending his\nflock, an occasion of vice, or the foundation of pedantry and scholastic\npride.\n\nOur very learning, perhaps, where its influence extends, serves, in some\nmeasure, to depress our national spirit. Our literature being derived from\nnations of a different race, who flourished at a time when our ancestors\nwere in a state of barbarity, and consequently, when they were despised by\nthose who had attained to the literary arts, has given rise to a humbling\nopinion, that we ourselves are the offspring of mean and contemptible\nnations, with whom the human imagination and sentiment had no effect, till\nthe genius was in a manner inspired by examples, and directed by lessons\nthat were brought from abroad. The Romans, from whom our accounts are\nchiefly derived, have admitted, in the rudeness of their own ancestors, a\nsystem of virtues, which all simple nations perhaps equally possess; a\ncontempt of riches; love of their country, patience of hardship, danger,\nand fatigue. They have, notwithstanding, vilified our ancestors for having\nresembled their own; at least, in the defect of their arts, and in the\nneglect of conveniencies which those arts are employed to procure.\n\nIt is from the Greek and the Roman historians, however, that we have not\nonly the most authentic and instructive, but even the most engaging\nrepresentations of the tribes from whom we descend. Those sublime and\nintelligent writers understood human nature, and could collect its\nfeatures, and exhibit its characters, in every situation. They were ill\nsucceeded in this task by the early historians of modern Europe; who,\ngenerally bred to the profession of monks, and confined to the monastic\nlife, applied themselves to record what they were pleased to denominate\nfacts, while they suffered the productions of genius to perish, and were\nunable, either by the matter they selected, or the style of their\ncompositions, to give any representation of the active spirit of mankind in\nany condition. With them, a narration was supposed to constitute history,\nwhilst it did not convey any knowledge of men; and history itself was\nallowed to be complete, while, amidst the events and the succession of\nprinces that are recorded in the order of time, we are left to look in vain\nfor those characteristics of the understanding and the heart, which alone,\nin every human transaction, render the story either engaging or useful.\n\nWe therefore willingly quit the history of our early ancestors, where C\u00e6sar\nand Tacitus have dropped them; and perhaps till we come within the reach of\nwhat is connected with present affairs, and makes a part in the system on\nwhich we now proceed, have little reason to expect any subject to interest\nor inform the mind. We have no reason, however, from hence to conclude,\nthat the matter itself was more barren, or the scene of human affairs less\ninteresting, in modern Europe, than it has been on every stage where\nmankind were engaged to exhibit the movements of the heart, the efforts of\ngenerosity, magnanimity, and courage.\n\nThe trial of what those ages contained, is not even fairly made, when men\nof genius and distinguished abilities, with the accomplishments of a\nlearned and a polished age, collect the materials they have found, and,\nwith the greatest success, connect the story of illiterate ages with\ntransactions of a later date. It is difficult even for them, under the\nnames which are applied in a new state of society, to convey a just\napprehension of what mankind were, in situations so different, and in times\nso remote from their own.\n\nIn deriving from historians of this character the instruction which their\nwritings are fit to bestow, we are frequently to forget the general terms\nthat are employed, in order to collect the real manners of any age from the\nminute circumstances that are occasionally presented. The titles of\n_Royal_ and _Noble_ were applicable to the families of Tarquin,\nCollatinus, and Cincinnatus; but Lucretia was employed in domestic industry\nwith her maids, and Cincinnatus followed the plough. The dignities, and\neven the offices, of civil society, were known many ages ago, in Europe, by\ntheir present appellations; but we find in the history of England, that a\nking and his court being assembled to solemnize a festival, an outlaw, who\nhad subsisted by robbery, came to share in the feast. The king himself\narose to force this unworthy guest from the company; a scuffle ensued\nbetween them; and the king was killed. [Footnote: Hume's History, chap. 8.\np. 278] A chancellor and prime minister, whose magnificence and sumptuous\nfurniture were the subject of admiration and envy, had his apartments\ncovered every day in winter with clean straw and hay, and in summer with\ngreen rushes or boughs. Even the sovereign himself, in those ages, was\nprovided with forage for his bed. [Footnote: Hume's History, chap. 8. p.73]\nThese picturesque features, and characteristical strokes of the times,\nrecal the imagination from the supposed distinction of monarch and subject,\nto that state of rough familiarity in which our ancestors lived, and under\nwhich they acted, with a view to objects, and on principles of conduct,\nwhich we seldom comprehend, when we are employed to record their\ntransactions, or to study their characters.\n\nThucydides, notwithstanding the prejudice of his country against the name\nof _Barbarian_, understood that it was in the customs of barbarous\nnations he was to study the more ancient manners of Greece.\n\nThe Romans might have found an image of their own ancestors, in the\nrepresentations they have given of ours; and if ever an Arab clan shall\nbecome a civilized nation, or any American tribe escape the poison which is\nadministered by our traders of Europe, it may be from the relations of the\npresent times, and the descriptions which are now given by travellers, that\nsuch a people, in after ages, may best collect the accounts of their\norigin. It is in their present condition that we are to behold, as in a\nmirror, the features of our own progenitors; and from thence we are to draw\nour conclusions with respect to the influence of situations, in which we\nhave reason to believe that our fathers were placed.\n\nWhat should distinguish a German or a Briton, in the habits of his mind or\nhis body, in his manners or apprehensions, from an American, who, like him,\nwith his bow and his dart, is left to traverse the forest; and in a like\nsevere or variable climate, is obliged to subsist by the chase?\n\nIf, in advanced years, we would form a just notion of our progress from the\ncradle, we must have recourse to the nursery; and from the example of those\nwho are still in the period of life we mean to describe, take our\nrepresentation of past manners, that cannot, in any other way, be recalled.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION II.\n\nOF RUDE NATIONS PRIOR TO THE ESTABLISHMENT OF PROPERTY.\n\n\nFrom one to the other extremity of America; from Kamtschatka westward to\nthe river Oby; and from the Northern Sea, over that length of country, to\nthe confines of China, of India, and Persia; from the Caspian to the Red\nSea, with little exception, and from thence over the inland continent and\nthe western shores of Africa; we every where meet with nations on whom we\nbestow the appellations of barbarous or savage. That extensive tract of the\nearth, containing so great a variety of situation, climate, and soil,\nshould, in the manners of its inhabitants, exhibit all the diversities\nwhich arise from the unequal influence of the sun, joined to a different\nnourishment and manner of life. Every question, however, on this subject,\nis premature, till we have first endeavoured to form some general\nconception of our species in its rude state, and have learned to\ndistinguish mere ignorance from dulness, and the want of arts from the want\nof capacity.\n\nOf the nations who dwell in those, or any other of the less cultivated\nparts of the earth, some entrust their subsistence chiefly to hunting,\nfishing, or the natural produce of the soil. They have little attention to\nproperty, and scarcely any beginnings of subordination or government.\nOthers, having possessed themselves of herds, and depending for their\nprovision on pasture, know what it is to be poor and rich. They know the\nrelations of patron and client, of servant and master, and by the measures\nof fortune determine their station. This distinction must create a material\ndifference of character, and may furnish two separate heads, under which to\nconsider the history of mankind in their rudest state; that of the savage,\nwho is not yet acquainted with property; and that of the barbarian, to whom\nit is, although not ascertained by laws, a principal object of care and\ndesire.\n\nIt must appear very evident, that property is a matter of progress. It\nrequires, among other particulars, which are the effects of time, some\nmethod of defining possession. The very desire of it proceeds from\nexperience; and the industry by which it is gained, or improved, requires\nsuch a habit of acting with a view to distant objects, as may overcome the\npresent disposition either to sloth or to enjoyment. This habit is slowly\nacquired, and is in reality a principal distinction of nations in the\nadvanced state of mechanic and commercial arts.\n\nIn a tribe which subsists by hunting and fishing, the arms, the utensils,\nand the fur, which the individual carries, are to him the only subjects of\nproperty. The food of to-morrow is yet wild in the forest, or hid in the\nlake; it cannot be appropriated before it is caught; and even then, being\nthe purchase of numbers, who fish or hunt in a body, it accrues to the\ncommunity, and is applied to immediate use, or becomes an accession to the\nstores of the public.\n\nWhere savage nations, as in most parts of America, mix with the practice of\nhunting some species of rude agriculture, they still follow, with respect\nto the soil and the fruits of the earth, the analogy of their principal\nobject. As the men hunt, so the women labour together; and, after they have\nshared the toils of the seed time, they enjoy the fruits of the harvest in\ncommon. The field in which they have planted, like the district over which\nthey are accustomed to hunt, is claimed as a property by the nation, but is\nnot parcelled in lots to its members. They go forth in parties to prepare\nthe ground, to plant and to reap. The harvest is gathered into the public\ngranary, and from thence, at stated times, is divided into shares for the\nmaintenance of separate families. [Footnote: History of the Caribbees.]\nEven the returns of the market, when they trade with foreigners, are\nbrought home to the stock of the nation. [Footnote: Charlevoix. This\naccount of Rude Nations, in most points of importance, so far as it relates\nto the original North Americans, is not founded so much on the testimony of\nthis or the other writers cited, as it is on the concurring representations\nof living witnesses, who, in the course of trade, of war, and of treaties,\nhave had ample occasion to observe the manners of that people. It is\nnecessary however, for the sake of those who may not have conversed with\nthe living witnesses, to refer to printed authorities.]\n\nAs the fur and the bow pertain to the individual, the cabin and its\nutensils are appropriated to the family; and as the domestic cares are\ncommitted to the women, so the property of the household seems likewise to\nbe vested in them. The children are considered as pertaining to the mother,\nwith little regard to descent on the father's side. The males, before they\nare married, remain in the cabin in which they are born; but after they\nhave formed a new connection with the other sex, they change their\nhabitation, and become an accession to the family in which they have found\ntheir wives. The hunter and the warrior are numbered by the matron as a\npart of her treasure; they are reserved for perils and trying occasions;\nand in the recess of public councils, in the intervals of hunting or war,\nare maintained by the cares of the women, and loiter about in mere\namusement or sloth. [Footnote: Lafitau.]\n\nWhile one sex continue to value themselves chiefly on their courage, their\ntalent for policy, and their warlike achievements, this species of property\nwhich is bestowed on the other, is, in reality, a mark of subjection; not,\nas some writers allege, of their having acquired an ascendant. [Footnote:\nIbid.] It is the care and trouble of a subject with which the warrior does\nnot choose to be embarrassed. It is a servitude, and a continual toil,\nwhere no honours are won; and they whose province it is, are in fact the\nslaves and the helots of their country. If in this destination of the\nsexes, while the men continue to indulge themselves in the contempt of\nsordid and mercenary arts, the cruel establishment of slavery is for some\nages deferred; if, in this tender, though unequal alliance, the affections\nof the heart prevent the severities practised on slaves; we have in the\ncustom itself, as perhaps in many other instances, reason to prefer the\nfirst suggestions of nature, to many of her after refinements.\n\nIf mankind, in any instance, continue the article of property on the\nfooting we have now represented, we may easily credit what is further\nreported by travellers; that they admit of no distinctions of rank or\ncondition; and that they have in fact no degree of subordination different\nfrom the distribution of function, which follows the differences of age,\ntalents, and dispositions. Personal qualities give an ascendant in the\nmidst of occasions which require their exertion; but in times of\nrelaxation, leave no vestige of power or prerogative. A warrior who has led\nthe youth of his nation to the slaughter of their enemies, or who has been\nforemost in the chase, returns upon a level with the rest of his tribe; and\nwhen the only business is to sleep, or to feed, can enjoy no pre-eminence;\nfor he sleeps and he feeds no better than they.\n\nWhere no profit attends dominion, one party is as much averse to the\ntrouble of perpetual command, as the other is to the mortification of\nperpetual submission. \"I love victory, I love great actions,\" says\nMontesquieu, in the character of Sylla; \"but have no relish for the languid\ndetail of pacific government, or the pageantry of high station.\" He has\ntouched perhaps what is a prevailing sentiment in the simplest state of\nsociety, when the weakness of motive suggested by interest, and the\nignorance of any elevation not founded on merit, supplies the place of\ndisdain.\n\nThe character of the mind, however, in this state, is not founded on\nignorance alone. Men are conscious of their equality, and are tenacious of\nits rights. Even when they follow a leader to the field, they cannot brook\nthe pretensions to a formal command: they listen to no orders; and they\ncome under no military engagements, but those of mutual fidelity, and equal\nardour in the enterprise. [Footnote: Charlevoix.]\n\nThis description, we may believe, is unequally applicable to different\nnations, who have made unequal advances in the establishment of property.\nAmong the Caribbees, and the other natives of the warmer climates in\nAmerica, the dignity of chieftain is hereditary, or elective, and continued\nfor life: the unequal distribution of property creates a visible\nsubordination. [Footnote: Wafer's Account of the Isthmus of Darien.] But\namong the Iroquois, and other nations of the temperate zone, the titles of\n_magistrate_ and _subject_, of _noble_ and _mean_, are as little known\nas those of _rich_ and _poor_. The old men, without being invested with\nany coercive power, employ their natural authority in advising or in\nprompting the resolutions of their tribe: the military leader is pointed\nout by the superiority of his manhood and valour; the statesman is\ndistinguished only by the attention with which his counsel is heard; the\nwarrior by the confidence with which the youth of his nation follow him\nto the field; and if their concerts must be supposed to constitute a\nspecies of political government, it is one to which no language of ours\ncan be applied. Power is no more than the natural ascendancy of the mind;\nthe discharge of office no more than a natural exercise of the personal\ncharacter; and while the community acts with an appearance of order,\nthere is no sense of disparity in the breast of any of its members.\n[Footnote: Colden's History of the Five Nations.]\n\nIn these happy, though informal proceedings, where age alone gives a place\nin the council; where youth, ardour, and valour in the field, give a title\nto the station of leader; where the whole community is assembled on any\nalarming occasion, we may venture to say, that we have found the origin of\nthe senate, the executive power, and the assembly of the people;\ninstitutions for which ancient legislators have been so much renowned. The\nsenate among the Greeks, as well as the Latins, appears, from the etymology\nof its name, to have been originally composed of elderly men. The military\nleader at Rome, in a manner not unlike to that of the American warrior,\nproclaimed his levies, and the citizen prepared for the field, in\nconsequence of a voluntary engagement. The suggestions of nature, which\ndirected the policy of nations in the wilds of America, were followed\nbefore on the banks of the Eurotas and the Tyber; and Lycurgus and Romulus\nfound the model of their institutions, where the members of every rude\nnation find the earliest mode of uniting their talents, and combining their\nforces.\n\nAmong the North American nations, every individual is independent; but he\nis engaged by his affections and his habits in the cares of a family.\nFamilies, like so many separate tribes, are subject to no inspection or\ngovernment from abroad; whatever passes at home, even bloodshed and murder,\nare only supposed to concern themselves. They are, in the mean time, the\nparts of a canton; the women assemble to plant their maize; the old men go\nto council; the huntsman and the warrior joins the youth of his village in\nthe field. Many such cantons assemble to constitute a national council, or\nto execute a national enterprise. When the Europeans made their first\nsettlements in America, six such nations had formed a league, had their\namphyctiones or states general, and, by the firmness of their union and the\nability of their councils, had obtained an ascendant from the mouth of St.\nLawrence to that of the Mississippi. [Footnote: Lafitau, Charlevoix,\nColden, &c.] They appeared to understand the objects of the confederacy, as\nwell as those of the separate nation; they studied a balance of power; the\nstatesman of one country watched the designs and proceedings of another;\nand occasionally threw the weight of his tribe into a different scale. They\nhad their alliances and their treaties, which, like the nations of Europe,\nthey maintained, or they broke, upon reasons of state; and remained at\npeace from a sense of necessity or expediency, and went to war upon any\nemergence of provocation or jealousy.\n\nThus, without any settled form of government, or any bond of union, but\nwhat resembled more the suggestion of instinct, than the invention of\nreason, they conducted themselves with the concert and the force of\nnations. Foreigners, without being able to discover who is the magistrate,\nor in what manner the senate is composed, always find a council with whom\nthey may treat, or a band of warriors with whom they may fight. Without\npolice or compulsory laws, their domestic society is conducted with order,\nand the absence of vicious dispositions, is a better security than any\npublic establishment for the suppression of crimes.\n\nDisorders, however, sometimes occur, especially in times of debauch, when\nthe immoderate use of intoxicating liquors, to which they are extremely\naddicted, suspends the ordinary caution of their demeanour, and, inflaming\ntheir violent passions, engages them in quarrels and bloodshed. When a\nperson is slain, his murderer is seldom called to an immediate account; but\nhe has a quarrel to sustain with the family and the friends; or, if a\nstranger, with the countrymen of the deceased; sometimes even with his own\nnation at home, if the injury committed be of a kind to alarm the society.\nThe nation, the canton, or the family endeavour, by presents, to atone for\nthe offence of any of their members; and, by pacifying the parties\naggrieved, endeavour to prevent what alarms the community more than the\nfirst disorder, the subsequent effects of revenge and animosity. [Footnote:\nLafitau.] The shedding of blood, however, if the guilty person remain where\nhe has committed the crime, seldom escapes unpunished: the friend of the\ndeceased knows how to disguise, though not to suppress, his resentment; and\neven after many years have elapsed, is sure to repay the injury that was\ndone to his kindred or his house.\n\nThese considerations render them cautious and circumspect, put them on\ntheir guard against their passions, and give to their ordinary deportment\nan air of phlegm and composure superior to what is possessed among polished\nnations. They are, in the mean time, affectionate in their carriage, and in\ntheir conversations, pay a mutual attention and regard, says Charlevoix,\nmore tender and more engaging, than what we profess in the ceremonial of\npolished societies.\n\nThis writer has observed, that the nations among whom he travelled in North\nAmerica, never mentioned acts of generosity or kindness under the notion of\nduty. They acted from affection, as they acted from appetite, without\nregard to its consequences. When they had done a kindness, they had\ngratified a desire; the business was finished, and it passed from the\nmemory. When they received a favour, it might, or it might not, prove the\noccasion of friendship: if it did not, the parties appeared to have no\napprehensions of gratitude, as a duty by which the one was bound to make a\nreturn, or the other entitled to reproach the person who had failed in his\npart. The spirit with which they give or receive presents, is the same\nwhich, Tacitus observed among the ancient Germans; they delight in them,\nbut do not consider them as matter of obligation. [Footnote: Muneribus\ngaudent, sed nec data imputant, nec acceptis obligantur.] Such gifts are of\nlittle consequence, except when employed as the seal of a bargain or\ntreaty.\n\nIt was their favourite maxim, that no man is naturally indebted to another;\nthat he is not, therefore, obliged to bear with any imposition, or unequal\ntreatment. [Footnote: Charlevoix] Thus, in a principle apparently sullen\nand inhospitable, they have discovered the foundation of justice, and\nobserve its rules, with a steadiness and candour which no cultivation has\nbeen found to improve. The freedom which they give in what relates to the\nsupposed duties of kindness and friendship, serves only to engage the heart\nmore entirely, where it is once possessed with affection. We love to choose\nour object without any restraint, and we consider kindness itself as a\ntask, when the duties of friendship are exacted by rule. We therefore, by\nour demand for attentions, rather corrupt than improve the system of\nmorality; and by our exactions of gratitude, and out frequent proposals to\nenforce its observance, we only shew that we have mistaken its nature; we\nonly give symptoms of that growing sensibility to interest, from which we\nmeasure the expediency of friendship and generosity itself; and by which we\nwould introduce the spirit of traffic into the commerce of affection. In\nconsequence of this proceeding, we are often obliged to decline a favour,\nwith the same spirit that we throw off a servile engagement, or reject a\nbribe. To the unrefined savage every favour is welcome, and every present\nreceived without reserve or reflection.\n\nThe love of equality, and the love of justice, were originally the same;\nand although, by the constitution of different societies, unequal\nprivileges are bestowed on their members; and although justice itself\nrequires a proper regard to be paid to such privileges; yet he who has\nforgotten that men were originally equal, easily degenerates into a slave;\nor, in the capacity of a master, is not to be trusted with the rights of\nhis fellow creatures. This happy principle gives to the mind its sense of\nindependence, renders it indifferent to the favours which are in the power\nof other men, checks it in the commission of injuries, and leaves the heart\nopen to the affections of generosity and kindness. It gives to the\nuntutored American that sentiment of candour, and of regard to the welfare\nof others, which, in some degree, softens the arrogant pride of his\ncarriage, and in times of confidence and peace, without the assistance of\ngovernment or law, renders the approach and commerce of strangers secure.\n\nAmong this people, the foundations of honour are eminent abilities, and\ngreat fortitude; not the distinctions of equipage and fortune: the talents\nin esteem are such as their situation leads them to employ, the exact\nknowledge of a country, and stratagem in war. On these qualifications, a\ncaptain among the Caribbees underwent an examination. When a new leader was\nto be chosen, a scout was sent forth to traverse the forests which led to\nthe enemy's country, and upon his return, the candidate was desired to find\nthe track in which he had travelled. A brook, or a fountain, was named to\nhim on the frontier, and he was desired to find the nearest path to a\nparticular station, and to plant a stake in the place. [Footnote: Lafitau]\nThey can, accordingly, trace a wild beast, or the human foot, over many\nleagues of a pathless forest, and find their way across a woody and\nuninhabited continent, by means of refined observations, which escape the\ntraveller who has been accustomed to different aids. They steer in slender\ncanoes, across stormy seas, with a dexterity equal to that of the most\nexperienced pilot. [Footnote: Charlevoix.] They carry a penetrating eye for\nthe thoughts and intentions of those with whom they have to deal; and when\nthey mean to deceive, they cover themselves with arts which the most\nsubtile can seldom elude. They harangue in their public councils with a\nnervous and a figurative elocution; and conduct themselves in the\nmanagement of their treaties with a perfect discernment of their national\ninterests.\n\nThus being able masters in the detail of their own affairs, and well\nqualified to acquit themselves on particular occasions, they study no\nscience, and go in pursuit of no general principles. They even seem\nincapable of attending to any distant consequences, beyond those they have\nexperienced in hunting or war. They entrust the provision of every season\nto itself; consume the fruits of the earth in summer; and, in winter, are\ndriven in quest of their prey, through woods, and over deserts covered with\nsnow. They do not form in one hour those maxims which may prevent the\nerrors of the next; and they fail in those apprehensions, which, in the\nintervals of passion, produce ingenuous shame, compassion, remorse, or a\ncommand of appetite. They are seldom made to repent of any violence; nor is\na person, indeed, thought accountable in his sober mood, for what he did in\nthe heat of a passion, or in a time of debauch.\n\nTheir superstitions are groveling and mean; and did this happen among rude\nnations alone, we could not sufficiently admire the effects of politeness;\nbut it is a subject on which few nations are entitled to censure their\nneighbours. When we have considered the superstitions of one people, we\nfind little variety in those of another. They are but a repetition of\nsimilar weaknesses and absurdities, derived from a common source, a\nperplexed apprehension of invisible agents, that are supposed to guide all\nprecarious events to which human foresight cannot extend.\n\nIn what depends on the known or the regular course of nature, the mind\ntrusts to itself; but in strange and uncommon situations, it is the dupe of\nits own perplexity, and, instead of relying on its prudence or courage, has\nrecourse to divination, and a variety of observances, that, for being\nirrational, are always the more revered. Superstition being founded in\ndoubts and anxiety, is fostered by ignorance and mystery. Its maxims, in\nthe mean time, are not always confounded with those of common life; nor\ndoes its weakness or folly always prevent the watchfulness, penetration,\nand courage, men are accustomed to employ in the management of common\naffairs. A Roman consulting futurity by the pecking of birds, or a king of\nSparta inspecting the entrails of a beast, Mithridates consulting his women\non the interpretation of his dreams, are examples sufficient to prove, that\na childish imbecility on this subject is consistent with the greatest\nmilitary and political conduct.\n\nConfidence in the effect of charms is not peculiar to any age or nation.\nFew, even of the accomplished Greeks and Romans, were able to shake off\nthis weakness. In their case, it was not removed by the highest measures\nof civilization. It has yielded only to the light of true religion, or to\nthe study of nature, by which we are led to substitute a wise providence\noperating by physical causes, in the place of phantoms that terrify or\namuse the ignorant.\n\nThe principal point of honour among the rude nations of America, as indeed\nin every instance where mankind are not greatly corrupted, is fortitude.\nYet their way of maintaining this point of honour, is very different from\nthat of the nations of Europe. Their ordinary method of making war is by\nambuscade; and they strive, by overreaching an enemy, to commit the\ngreatest slaughter, or to make the greatest number of prisoners, with the\nleast hazard to themselves. They deem it a folly to expose their own\npersons in assaulting an enemy, and do not rejoice in victories which are\nstained with the blood of their own people. They do not value themselves,\nas in Europe, on defying their enemy upon equal terms. They even boast,\nthat they approach like foxes, or that they fly like birds, not less than\nthey devour like lions. In Europe, to fall in battle is accounted an\nhonour; among the natives of America it is reckoned disgraceful. [Footnote:\nCharlevoix.] They reserve their fortitude for the trials they abide when\nattacked by surprise, or when fallen into their enemies' hands; and when\nthey are obliged to maintain their own honour, and that of their own\nnation, in the midst of torments that require efforts of patience more than\nof valour.\n\nOn these occasions, they are far from allowing it to be supposed that they\nwish to decline the conflict. It is held infamous to avoid it, even by a\nvoluntary death; and the greatest affront which can be offered to a\nprisoner, is to refuse him the honours of a man, in the manner of his\nexecution. \"Withhold,\" says an old man, in the midst of his torture, \"the\nstabs of your knife; rather let me die by fire, that those dogs, your\nallies, from beyond the seas, may learn to suffer like men.\" [Footnote:\nColden.] With terms of defiance, the victim, in those solemn trials,\ncommonly excites the animosities of his tormentors, as well as his own; and\nwhilst we suffer for human nature, under the effect of its errors, we must\nadmire its force.\n\nThe people with whom this practice prevailed, were commonly desirous of\nrepairing their own losses, by adopting prisoners of war into their\nfamilies; and even, in the last moment, the hand which was raised to\ntorment, frequently gave the sign of adoption, by which the prisoner became\nthe child or the brother of his enemy, and came to share in all the\nprivileges of a citizen. In their treatment of those who suffered, they did\nnot appear to be guided by principles of hatred or revenge; they observed\nthe point of honour in applying as well as in bearing their torments; and,\nby a strange kind of affection and tenderness, were directed to be most\ncruel where they intend the highest respect; the coward was put to\nimmediate death by the hands of women; the valiant was supposed to be\nentitled to all the trials of fortitude that men could invent or employ.\n\"It gave me joy,\" says an old man to his captive, \"that so gallant a youth\nwas allotted to my share; I proposed to have placed you on the couch of my\nnephew, who was slain by your countrymen; to have transferred all my\ntenderness to you; and to have solaced my age in your company; but, maimed\nand mutilated as you now appear, death is better than life; prepare\nyourself therefore to die like a man.\" [Footnote: Charlevoix.]\n\nIt is perhaps with a view to these exhibitions, or rather in admiration of\nfortitude, the principle from which they proceed, that the Americans are so\nattentive, in their earliest years, to harden their nerves. [Footnote:\n_Ib_. This writer says, that he has seen a boy and a girl, having\nbound their naked arms together, place a burning coal between them, to try\nwho could endure it longest.] The children are taught to vie with each\nother in bearing the sharpest torments; the youth are admitted into the\nclass of manhood, after violent proofs of their patience; and leaders are\nput to the test by famine, burning, and suffocation. [Footnote: Lafitau.]\n\nIt might be apprehended, that among rude nations, where the means of\nsubsistence are procured with so much difficulty, the mind could never\nraise itself above the consideration of this subject; and that man would,\nin this condition, give examples of the meanest and most mercenary spirit.\nThe reverse, however, is true. Directed in this particular by the desires\nof nature, men, in their simplest state, attend to the objects of appetite\nno further than appetite requires; and their desires of fortune extend no\nfurther than the meal which gratifies their hunger: they apprehend no\nsuperiority of rank in the possession of wealth, such as might inspire any\nhabitual principle of covetousness, vanity, or ambition: they can apply to\nno task that engages no immediate passion, and take pleasure in no\noccupation that affords no dangers to be braved, and no honours to be won.\n\nIt was not among the ancient Romans alone that commercial arts, or a sordid\nmind, were held in contempt. A like spirit prevails in every rude and\nindependent society. \"I am a warrior, and not a merchant,\" said an American\nto the governor of Canada, who proposed to give him goods in exchange for\nsome prisoners he had taken; \"your clothes and utensils do not tempt\nme; but my prisoners are now in your power, and you may seize them: if you\ndo, I must go forth and take more prisoners, or perish in the attempt; and\nif that chance should befal me, I shall die like a man; but remember, that\nour nation will charge you as the cause of my death.\" [Footnote:\nCharlevoix.] With these apprehensions, they have an elevation, and a\nstateliness of carriage, which the pride of nobility, where it is most\nrevered by polished nations, seldom bestows.\n\nThey are attentive to their persons, and employ much time, as well as\nendure great pain, in the methods they take to adorn their bodies, to give\nthe permanent stains with which they are coloured, or preserve the paint,\nwhich they are perpetually repairing, in order to appear with advantage.\n\nTheir aversion to every sort of employment which they hold to be mean,\nmakes them pass great part of their time in idleness or sleep; and a man\nwho, in pursuit of a wild beast, or to surprise his enemy, will traverse a\nhundred leagues on snow, will not, to procure his food, submit to any\nspecies of ordinary labour. \"Strange,\" says Tacitus, \"that the same person\nshould be so much averse to repose, and so much addicted to sloth.\"\n[Footnote: Mira diversitas naturae, ut idem homines sic ament intertiam et\noderint quietem.] Games of hazard are not the invention of polished ages;\nmen of curiosity have looked for their origin in vain, among the monuments\nof an obscure antiquity; and it is probable that they belonged to times too\nremote and too rude even for the conjectures of antiquarians to reach. The\nvery savage brings his furs, his utensils, and his beads, to the hazard\ntable: he finds here the passions and agitations which the applications of\na tedious industry could not excite; and while the throw is depending, he\ntears his hair, and beats his breast, with a rage which the more\naccomplished gamester has sometimes learned to repress: he often quits the\nparty naked and stripped of all his possessions; or where slavery is in\nuse, stakes his freedom to have one chance more to recover his former loss.\n[Footnote: Tacitus, Lafitau, Charlevoix.]\n\nWith all these infirmities, vices, or respectable qualities, belonging to\nthe human species in its rudest state; the love of society, friendship, and\npublic affection, penetration, eloquence, and courage, appear to have been\nits original properties, not the subsequent effects of device or invention.\nIf mankind are qualified to improve their manners, the materials to be\nimproved were furnished by nature; and the effect of this improvement is\nnot to inspire the sentiments of tenderness and generosity, nor to bestow\nthe principal constituents of a respectable character, but to obviate the\ncasual abuses of passion; and to prevent a mind, which feels the best\ndispositions in their greatest force, from being at times likewise the\nsport of brutal appetite, and of ungovernable violence.\n\nWere Lycurgus employed anew to find a plan of government for the people we\nhave described, he would find them, in many important particulars, prepared\nby nature herself to receive his institutions. His equality in matters of\nproperty being already established, he would have no faction to apprehend\nfrom the opposite interests of the poor and the rich; his senate, his\nassembly of the people, is constituted; his discipline is in some measure\nadopted, and the place of his helots is supplied by the task allotted to\none of the sexes. With all these advantages, he would still have had a very\nimportant lesson for civil society to teach, that by which a few learn to\ncommand, and the many are taught to obey: he would have all his precautions\nto take against the future intrusion of mercenary arts, the admiration of\nluxury, and the passion for interest: he would still perhaps have a more\ndifficult task than any of the former, in teaching his citizens the command\nof appetite, and an indifference to pleasure, as well as a contempt of\npain; in teaching them to maintain in the field the formality of uniform\nprecautions, and as much to avoid being themselves surprised, as they\nendeavour to surprise their enemy.\n\nFor want of these advantages, rude nations in general, though they are\npatient of hardship and fatigue, though they are addicted to war, and are\nqualified by their stratagem and valour to throw terror into the armies of\na more regular enemy; yet, in the course of a continual struggle, always\nyield to the superior arts, and the discipline of more civilized nations.\nHence the Romans were able to overrun the provinces of Gaul, Germany, and\nBritain; and hence the Europeans have a growing ascendancy over the nations\nof Africa and America.\n\nOn the credit of a superiority which certain nations possess, they think\nthat they have a claim to dominion; and even Caesar appears to have\nforgotten what were the passions, as well as the rights of mankind, when he\ncomplained, that the Britons, after having sent him a submissive message to\nGaul, perhaps to prevent his invasion, still pretended to fight for their\nliberties, and to oppose his descent on their island. [Footnote: Caesar\nquestus, quod quum ultro in continentem legatis missis pacem a se\npetissent, bellum sine causa intulissent. _Lib_. 4.]\n\nThere is not, perhaps, in the whole description of mankind, a circumstance\nmore remarkable than that mutual contempt and aversion which nations, under\na different state of commercial arts, bestow on each other. Addicted to\ntheir own pursuits, and considering their own condition as the standard of\nhuman felicity, all nations pretend to the preference, and in their\npractice give sufficient proof of sincerity. Even the savage, still less\nthan the citizen, can be made to quit that manner of life in which he is\ntrained: he loves that freedom of mind which will not be bound to any task,\nand which owns no superior: however tempted to mix with polished nations,\nand to better his fortune, the first moment of liberty brings him back to\nthe woods again; he droops and he pines in the streets of the populous\ncity; he wanders dissatisfied over the open and the cultivated field; he\nseeks the frontier and the forest, where, with a constitution prepared to\nundergo the hardships and the difficulties of the situation, he enjoys a\ndelicious freedom from care, and a seducing society, where no rules of\nbehaviour are prescribed, but the simple dictates of the heart.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION III.\n\nOF RUDE NATIONS UNDER THE IMPRESSIONS OF PROPERTY AND INTEREST.\n\n\nIt was a proverbial imprecation in use among the hunting nations on the\nconfines of Siberia, that their enemy might be obliged to live like a\nTartar, and have the folly of troubling himself with the charge of cattle.\n[Footnote: Abulgaze's Genealogical History of the Tartars] Nature, it\nseems, in their apprehension, by storing the woods and desert with game,\nrendered the task of the herdsman unnecessary, and left to man only the\ntrouble of selecting and of seizing his prey.\n\nThe indolence of mankind, or rather their aversion to any application in\nwhich they are not engaged by immediate instinct and passion, retards the\nprogress of industry and of impropriation. It has been found, however, even\nwhile the means of subsistence are left in common, and the stock of the\npublic is yet undivided, that property is apprehended in different\nsubjects; that the fur and the bow belong to the individual; that the\ncottage, with its furniture, are appropriated to the family.\n\nWhen the parent begins to desire a better provision for his children than\nis found under the promiscuous management of many co-partners, when he has\napplied his labour and his skill apart, he aims at an exclusive possession,\nand seeks the property of the soil, as well as the use of its fruits.\n\nWhen the individual no longer finds among his associates the same\ninclination to commit every subject to public use, he is seized with\nconcern for his personal fortune; and is alarmed by the cares which every\nperson entertains for himself. He is urged as much by emulation and\njealousy, as by the sense of necessity. He suffers considerations of\ninterest to rest on his mind, and when every present appetite is\nsufficiently gratified, he can act with a view to futurity, or, rather\nfinds an object of vanity in having amassed what is become a subject of\ncompetition, and a matter of universal esteem. Upon this motive, where\nviolence is restrained, he can apply his hand to lucrative arts, confine\nhimself to a tedious task, and wait with patience for the distant returns\nof his labour.\n\nThus mankind acquire industry by many and by slow degrees. They are taught\nto regard their interest; they are restrained from rapine; and they are\nsecured in the possession of what they fairly obtain; by these methods the\nhabits of the labourer, the mechanic, and the trader, are gradually formed.\nA hoard, collected from the simple productions of nature, or a herd of\ncattle, are, in every rude nation, the first species of wealth. The\ncircumstances of the soil, and the climate, determine whether the\ninhabitant shall apply himself chiefly to agriculture or pasture; whether\nhe shall fix his residence, or be moving continually about with all his\npossessions.\n\nIn the west of Europe; in America, from south to north, with a few\nexceptions; in the torrid zone, and every where within the warmer climates;\nmankind have generally applied themselves to some species of agriculture,\nand have been disposed to settlement. In the north and middle region of\nAsia, they depended entirely on their herds, and were perpetually shifting\ntheir ground in search of new pasture. The arts which pertain to settlement\nhave been practised, and variously cultivated, by the inhabitants of\nEurope. Those which are consistent with perpetual migration, have, from the\nearliest accounts of history, remained nearly the same, with the Scythian\nor Tartar. The tent pitched on a moveable carriage, the horse applied to\nevery purpose of labour, and of war, of the dairy, and of the butcher's\nstall, from the earliest to the latest accounts, have made up the riches\nand equipage of this wandering people.\n\nBut in whatever way rude nations subsist, there are certain points in\nwhich, under the first impressions of property, they nearly agree. Homer\neither lived with a people in this stage of their progress, or found\nhimself engaged to exhibit their character. Tacitus had made them the\nsubject of a particular treatise; and if this be an aspect under which\nmankind deserve to be viewed, it must be confessed, that we have singular\nadvantages in collecting their features. The portrait has already been\ndrawn by the ablest hands, and gives, at one view, in the writings of these\ncelebrated authors, whatever has been scattered in the relations of\nhistorians, or whatever we have opportunities to observe in the actual\nmanners of men, who still remain in a similar state.\n\nIn passing from the condition we have described, to this we have at present\nin view, mankind still retain many marks of their earliest character. They\nare still averse to labour, addicted to war, admirers of fortitude, and in\nthe language of Tacitus, more lavish of their blood than of their sweat.\n[Footnote: Pigrum quin immo et iners videtur, sudore acquirere quod possis\nsanguine parare.] They are fond of fantastic ornaments in their dress, and\nendeavour to fill up the listless intervals of a life addicted to violence,\nwith hazardous sports, and with games of chance. Every servile occupation\nthey commit to women or slaves. But we may apprehend, that the individual\nhaving now found a separate interest, the bands of society must become less\nfirm, and domestic disorders more frequent. The members of every community,\nbeing distinguished among themselves by unequal possessions, the ground of\na permanent and palpable subordination is laid.\n\nThese particulars accordingly take place among mankind, in passing from the\nsavage to what may be called the barbarous state. Members of the same\ncommunity enter into quarrels of competition or revenge. They unite in\nfollowing leaders, who are distinguished by their fortunes, and by the\nlustre of their birth. They join the desire of spoil with the love of\nglory; and from an opinion, that what is acquired by force justly pertains\nto the victor, they become hunters of men, and bring every contest to the\ndecision of the sword.\n\nEvery nation is a band of robbers, who prey without restraint, or remorse,\non their neighbours. Cattle, says Achilles, may be seized in every field;\nand the coasts of the Aegean were accordingly pillaged by the heroes of\nHomer, for no other reason than because those heroes chose to possess\nthemselves of the brass and iron, the cattle, the slaves, and the women,\nwhich were found among the nations around them.\n\nA Tartar mounted on his horse, is an animal of prey, who only enquires\nwhere cattle are to be found, and how far he must go to possess them. The\nmonk, who had fallen under the displeasure of Mangu Chan, made his peace,\nby promising, that the pope, and the Christian princes, should make a\nsurrender of all their herds. [Footnote: Rubruquis.]\n\nA similar spirit reigned, without exception, in all the barbarous nations\nof Europe, Asia, and Africa. The antiquities of Greece and Italy, and the\nfables of every ancient poet, contain examples of its force. It was this\nspirit that brought our ancestors first into the provinces of the Roman\nempire; and that afterward, more perhaps than their reverence for the\ncross, led them to the east, to share with the Tartars in the spoils of the\nSaracen empire.\n\n\nFrom the descriptions contained in the last section, we may incline to\nbelieve, that mankind, in their simplest state; are on the eve of erecting\nrepublics. Their love of equality, their habit of assembling in public\ncouncils, and their zeal for the tribe to which they belong, are\nqualifications that fit them to act under that species of government; and\nthey seem to have but a few steps to make in order to reach its\nestablishment. They have only to define the numbers of which their councils\nshall consist, and to settle the forms of their meeting: they have only to\nbestow a permanent authority for repressing disorders, and to enact a few\nrules in favour of that justice they have already acknowledged, and from\ninclination so strictly observe.\n\nBut these steps are far from being so easily made, as they appear on a\nslight or a transient view. The resolution of choosing, from among their\nequals, the magistrate to whom they give from thenceforward a right to\ncontrol their own actions, is far from the thoughts of simple men; and no\npersuasion, perhaps, could make them adopt this measure, or give them any\nsense of its use.\n\nEven after nations have chosen a military leader, they do not entrust him\nwith any species of civil authority. The captain among the Caribbees did\nnot pretend to decide in domestic disputes; the terms _jurisdiction_\nand _government_ were unknown in their tongue. [Footnote: History of\nthe Caribbees.]\n\nBefore this important change was admitted, men must be accustomed to the\ndistinction of ranks; and before they are sensible that subordination is\nrequisite, they must have arrived at unequal conditions by chance. In\ndesiring property, they only mean to secure their subsistence; but the\nbrave who lead in war, have likewise the largest share in its spoils. The\neminent are fond of devising hereditary honours; and the multitude, who\nadmire the parent, are ready to extend their esteem to his offspring.\n\nPossessions descend, and the lustre of family grows brighter with age.\nHercules, who perhaps was an eminent warrior, became a god with posterity,\nand his race was set apart for royalty and sovereign power. When the\ndistinctions of fortune and those of birth are conjoined, the chieftain\nenjoys a pre-eminence, as well at the feast as in the field. His followers\ntake their place in subordinate stations; and instead of considering\nthemselves as parts of a community, they rank as the followers of a chief,\nand take their designation from the name of their leader. They find a new\nobject of public affection in defending his person, and in supporting his\nstation; they lend of their substance to form his estate; they are guided\nby his smiles and his frowns; and court as the highest distinction, a share\nin the feast which their own contributions have furnished.\n\nAs the former state of mankind seemed to point at democracy, this seems to\nexhibit the rudiments of monarchical government. But it is yet far short of\nthat establishment which is known in after ages by the name of\n_monarchy_. The distinction between the leader and the follower, the\nprince and the subject, is still but imperfectly marked: their pursuits and\noccupations are not different; their minds are not unequally cultivated;\nthey feed from the same dish; they sleep together on the ground; the\nchildren of the king, as well as those of the subject, are employed in\ntending the flock; and the keeper of the swine was a prime counsellor at\nthe court of Ulysses.\n\nThe chieftain, sufficiently distinguished from his tribe, to excite their\nadmiration, and to flatter their vanity by a supposed affinity to his noble\ndescent, is the object of their veneration, not of their envy: he is\nconsidered as the common bond of connection, not as their common master; is\nforemost in danger, and has a principal share in their troubles: his glory\nis placed in the number of his attendants, in his superior magnanimity and\nvalour; that of his followers, in being ready to shed their blood in his\nservice. [Footnote: Tacitus de moribus Germanorum.]\n\nThe frequent practice of war tends to strengthen the bands of society, and\nthe practice of depredation itself engages men in trials of mutual\nattachment and courage. What threatened to ruin and overset every good\ndisposition in the human breast, what seemed to banish justice from the\nsocieties of men, tends to unite the species in clans and fraternities;\nformidable indeed, and hostile to one another, but, in the domestic society\nof each, faithful, disinterested, and generous. Frequent dangers, and the\nexperience of fidelity and valour, awaken the love of those virtues, render\nthem a subject of admiration, and endear their possessors.\n\nActuated by great passions, the love of glory, and the desire of victory;\nroused by the menaces of an enemy, or stung with revenge; in suspense\nbetween the prospects of ruin or conquest, the barbarian spends every\nmoment of relaxation in sloth. He cannot descend to the pursuits of\nindustry or mechanical labour: the beast of prey is a sluggard; the hunter\nand the warrior sleeps, while women or slaves are made to toil for his\nbread. But shew him a quarry at a distance, he is bold, impetuous, artful,\nand rapacious; no bar can withstand his violence, and no fatigue can allay\nhis activity.\n\nEven under this description, mankind are generous and hospitable to\nstrangers, as well as kind, affectionate, and gentle, in their domestic\nsociety. [Footnote: Jean du Plan Carpen. Rubruquis, Caesar, Tacit.]\nFriendship and enmity are to them terms of the greatest importance: they\nmingle not their functions together; they have singled out their enemy, and\nthey have chosen their friend. Even in depredation, the principal object is\nglory; and spoil is considered as the badge of victory. Nations and tribes\nare their prey: the solitary traveller, by whom they can acquire only the\nreputation of generosity, is suffered to pass unhurt, or is treated with\nsplendid munificence.\n\nThough distinguished into small cantons under their several chieftains, and\nfor the most part separated by jealousy and animosity; yet when pressed by\nwars and formidable enemies, they sometimes unite in greater bodies. Like\nthe Greeks in their expedition to Troy, they follow some remarkable leader,\nand compose a kingdom of many separate tribes. But such coalitions are\nmerely occasional; and even during their continuance, more resemble a\nrepublic than monarchy. The inferior chieftains reserve their importance,\nand intrude, with an air of equality, into the councils of their leader, as\nthe people of their several clans commonly intrude upon them. [Footnote:\nKolbe: Description of the Cape of Good Hope.] Upon what motive indeed could\nwe suppose, that men who live together in the greatest familiarity, and\namongst whom the distinctions of rank are so obscurely marked, would resign\ntheir personal sentiments and inclinations, or pay an implicit submission\nto a leader who can neither overawe nor corrupt?\n\nMilitary force must be employed to extort, or the hire of the venal to buy,\nthat engagement which the Tartar comes under to his prince, when he\npromises, \"That he will go where he shall be commanded; that he will come\nwhen he shall be called; that he will kill whoever is pointed out to him;\nand, for the future, that he will consider the voice of the King as a\nsword.\" [Footnote: Simon de St. Quintin.]\n\nThese are the terms to which even the stubborn heart of the barbarian has\nbeen reduced, in consequence of a despotism he himself had established; and\nmen have in that low state of the commercial arts, in Europe, as well as in\nAsia, tasted of political slavery. When interest prevails in every breast,\nthe sovereign and his party cannot escape the infection: he employs the\nforce with which he is intrusted to turn his people into a property, and to\ncommand their possessions for his profit or his pleasure. If riches are by\nany people made the standard of good or of evil, let them beware of the\npowers they intrust to their prince. \"With the Suiones,\" says Tacitus,\n\"riches are in high esteem; and this people are accordingly disarmed, and\nreduced to slavery.\" [Footnote: De moribus Germanorum.]\n\nIt is in this woful condition that mankind, being slavish, interested,\ninsidious, deceitful, and bloody, bear marks, if not of the least curable,\nsurely of the most lamentable sort of corruption. [Footnote: Chardin's\nTravels.] Among them, war is the mere practice of rapine, to enrich the\nindividual; commerce is turned into a system of snares and impositions; and\ngovernment by turns oppressive or weak. It were happy for the human race,\nwhen guided by interest, and not governed by laws, that being split into\nnations of a moderate extent, they found in every canton some natural bar\nto its farther enlargement, and met with occupation enough in maintaining\ntheir independence, without being able to extend their dominion.\n\nThere is not disparity of rank, among men in rude ages, sufficient to give\ntheir communities the form of legal monarchy; and in a territory of\nconsiderable extent, when united under one head, the warlike and turbulent\nspirit of its inhabitants seems to require the bridle of despotism and\nmilitary force. Where any degree of freedom remains, the powers of the\nprince are, as they were in most of the rude monarchies of Europe,\nextremely precarious, and depend chiefly on his personal character: where,\non the contrary, the powers of the prince are above the control of his\npeople, they are likewise above the restrictions of justice. Rapacity and\nterror become the predominant motives of conduct, and form the character of\nthe only parties into which mankind are divided; that of the oppressor, and\nthat of the oppressed.\n\nThis calamity threatened Europe for ages, under the conquest and settlement\nof its new inhabitants. [Footnote: See Hume's History of the Tudors. There\nseemed to be nothing wanting to establish a perfect despotism in that\nhouse, but a few regiments of troops under the command of the crown.] It\nhas actually taken place in Asia, where similar conquests have been made;\nand even without the ordinary opiates of effeminacy, or a servile weakness,\nfounded on luxury, it has surprised the Tartar on his wain, in the rear of\nhis herds. Among this people, in the heart of a great continent, bold and\nenterprising warriors arose; they subdued by surprise, or superior\nabilities, the contiguous hordes; they gained, in their progress,\naccessions of numbers and of strength; and, like a torrent increasing as it\ndescends, became too strong for any bar that could be opposed to their\npassage. The conquering tribe, during a succession of ages, furnished the\nprince with his guards; and while they themselves were allowed to share in\nits spoils, were the voluntary tools of oppression. In this manner has\ndespotism and corruption found their way into regions so much renowned for\nthe wild freedom of nature: a power which was the terror of every\neffeminate province is disarmed, and the nursery of nations is itself gone\nto decay. [Footnote: See the History of the Huns.]\n\nWhere rude nations escape this calamity, they require the exercise of\nforeign wars to maintain domestic peace; when no enemy appears from abroad,\nthey have leisure for private feud, and employ that courage in their\ndissentions at home, which in time of war is employed in defence of their\ncountry.\n\n\"Among the Gauls,\" says Caesar, \"there are subdivisions, not only in every\nnation, and in every district and village, but almost in every house, every\none must fly to some patron for protection.\" [Footnote: De Bello Gallico,\nlib. 6.] In this distribution of parties, not only the feuds of clans, but\nthe quarrels of families, even the differences and competitions of\nindividuals, are decided by force. The sovereign, when unassisted by\nsuperstition, endeavours in vain to employ his jurisdiction, or to procure\na submission to the decisions of law. By a people who are accustomed to owe\ntheir possessions to violence, and who despise fortune itself without the\nreputation of courage, no umpire is admitted but the sword. Scipio offered\nhis arbitration to terminate the competition of two Spaniards in a disputed\nsuccession: \"That,\" said they, \"we have already refused to our relations:\nwe do not submit our difference to the judgment of men; and even among the\ngods, we appeal to Mars alone.\" [Footnote: Livy.]\n\nIt is well known that the nations of Europe carried this mode of proceeding\nto a degree of formality unheard of in other parts of the world: the civil\nand criminal judge could, in most cases, do no more than appoint the lists,\nand leave the parties to decide their cause by the combat: they apprehended\nthat the victor had a verdict of the gods in his favour: and when they\ndropped in any instance this extraordinary form of process, they\nsubstituted in its place some other more capricious appeal to chance; in\nwhich they likewise thought that the judgment of the gods was declared.\n\nThe fierce nations of Europe were even fond of the combat, as an exercise\nand a sport. In the absence of real quarrels, companions challenged each\nother to a trial of skill, in which one of them frequently perished. When\nScipio celebrated the funeral of his father and his uncle, the Spaniards\ncame in pairs to fight, and by a public exhibition of their duels, to\nincrease the solemnity. [Footnote: Livy, lib. 3.]\n\nIn this wild and lawless state, where the effects of true religion would\nhave been so desirable, and so salutary, superstition frequently disputes\nthe ascendant even with the admiration of valour; and an order of men, like\nthe Druids among the ancient Gauls and Britons, [Footnote: Caesar.] or some\npretender to divination, as at the Cape of Good Hope, finds, in the credit\nwhich is paid to his sorcery, a way to the possession of power: his magic\nwand comes in competition with the sword itself; and, in the manner of the\nDruids, gives the first rudiments of civil government to some, or, like the\nsupposed descendant of the sun among the Natchez, and the Lama among the\nTartars, to others, an early taste of despotism and absolute slavery.\n\nWe are generally at a loss to conceive how mankind can subsist under\ncustoms and manners extremely different from our own; and we are apt to\nexaggerate the misery of barbarous times, by an imagination of what we\nourselves should suffer in a situation to which we are not accustomed. But\nevery age hath its consolations, as well as its sufferings. [Footnote:\nPriscus, when employed on an embassy to Attila, was accosted in Greek, by a\nperson who wore the dress of a Scythian. Having expressed surprise, and\nbeing desirous to know the cause of his stay in so wild a company, was\ntold, that this Greek had been a captive, and for some time a slave, till\nhe obtained his liberty in reward of some remarkable action. \"I live more\nhappily here,\" says he, \"than ever I did under the Roman government: for\nthey who live with the Scythians, if they can endure the fatigues of war,\nhave nothing else to molest them; they enjoy their possessions undisturbed;\nwhereas you are continually a prey to foreign enemies, or to bad\ngovernment; you are forbid to carry arms in your own defence; you suffer\nfrom the remissness and ill conduct of those who are appointed to protect\nyou; the evils of peace are even worse than those of war; no punishment is\never inflicted on the powerful or the rich; no mercy is shown to the poor;\nalthough your institutions were wisely devised, yet, in the\nmanagement of corrupted men, their effects are pernicious and cruel.\"\n_Excerpta de legationibus._] In the interval of occasional outrages,\nthe friendly intercourse of men, even in their rudest condition, is\naffectionate and happy. [Footnote: D'Arvieux's History of the wild Arabs.]\nIn rude ages the persons and properties of individuals are secure; because\neach has a friend, as well as an enemy; and if the one is disposed to\nmolest, the other is ready to protect; and the very admiration of valour,\nwhich in some instances tends to sanctify violence, inspires likewise\ncertain maxims of generosity and honour, that tend to prevent the\ncommission of wrongs.\n\nMen bear with the defects of their policy, as they do with hardships and\ninconveniencies in their manner of living. The alarms and the fatigues of\nwar become a necessary recreation to those who are accustomed to them, and\nwho have the tone of their passions raised above less animating or trying\noccasions. Old men, among the courtiers of Attila, wept when they heard of\nheroic deeds, which they themselves could no longer perform. [Footnote:\nIbid.] And among the Celtic nations, when age rendered the warrior unfit\nfor his former toils, it was the custom, in order to abridge the languors\nof a listless and inactive life, to sue for death at the hands of his\nfriends. [Footnote:\n  Ubi transcendit florentes viribus annos,\n  Impatiens aevi spernit novisse senectam.\nSilius, lib. i. 225.]\n\nWith all this ferocity of spirit, the rude nations of the west were subdued\nby the policy and more regular warfare of the Romans. The point of honour\nwhich the barbarians of Europe adopted as individuals, exposed them to a\npeculiar disadvantage, by rendering them, even in their national wars,\naverse to assailing their enemy by surprise, or taking the benefit of\nstratagem; and though separately bold and intrepid, yet, like other rude\nnations, they were, when assembled in great bodies, addicted to\nsuperstition, and subject to panics.\n\nThey were, from a consciousness of their personal courage and force,\nsanguine on the eve of battle; they were, beyond the bounds of moderation,\nelated on success, and dejected in adversity; and being disposed to\nconsider every event as a judgment of the gods, they were never qualified\nby an uniform application or prudence to make the most of their forces, to\nrepair their misfortunes, or to improve their advantages.\n\nResigned to the government of affection and passion, they were generous and\nfaithful where they had fixed an attachment; implacable, froward, and\ncruel, where they had conceived a dislike: addicted to debauchery, and the\nimmoderate use of intoxicating liquors, they deliberated on the affairs of\nstate in the heat of their riot; and in the same dangerous moments,\nconceived the designs of military enterprise, or terminated their domestic\ndissentions by the dagger or the sword.\n\nIn their wars they preferred death to captivity. The victorious armies of\nthe Romans, in entering a town by assault, or in forcing an encampment,\nhave found the mother in the act of destroying her children, that they\nmight not be taken; and the dagger of the parent, red with the blood of his\nfamily, ready to be plunged at last into his own breast. [Footnote: Liv.\nlib. xli. 11. Dio Cass.]\n\nIn all these particulars, we perceive that vigour of spirit, which renders\ndisorder itself respectable, and which qualifies men, if fortunate in their\nsituation, to lay the basis of domestic liberty, as well as to maintain\nagainst foreign enemies their national independence and freedom.\n\n\nAN ESSAY ON THE HISTORY OF CIVIL SOCIETY\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPART THIRD.\n\nOF THE HISTORY OF POLICY AND ARTS.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nSECTION I.\n\nOF THE INFLUENCES OF CLIMATE AND SITUATION\n\n\nWhat we have hitherto observed on the condition and manners of nations,\nthough chiefly derived from what has passed in the temperate climates, may,\nin some measure, be applied to the rude state of mankind In every part of\nthe earth: but if we intend to pursue the history of our species in its\nfurther attainments, we may soon enter on subjects which will confine our\nobservation to narrower limits. The genius of political wisdom, and of\ncivil arts, appears to have chosen his seats in particular tracts of the\nearth, and to have selected his favourites in particular races of men. Man,\nin his animal capacity, is qualified to subsist in every climate. He reigns\nwith the lion and the tyger under the equatorial heats of the sun, or he\nassociates with the bear and the reindeer beyond the polar system. His\nversatile disposition fits him to assume the habits of either condition, or\nhis talent for arts enables him to supply its defects. The intermediate\nclimates, however, appear most to favour his nature; and in whatever manner\nwe account for the fact, it cannot be doubted, that this animal has always\nattained to the principal honours of his species within the temperate zone.\nThe arts, which he has on this scene repeatedly invented, the extent of his\nreason, the fertility of his fancy, and the force of his genius in\nliterature, commerce, policy, and war, sufficiently declare either a\ndistinguished advantage of situation, or a natural superiority of mind.\n\nThe most remarkable races of men, it is true, have been rude before they\nwere polished. They have in some cases returned to rudeness again; and it\nis not from the actual possession of arts, science, or policy, that we are\nto pronounce of their genius.\n\nThere is a vigour, a reach of capacity, and a sensibility of mind, which\nmay characterize as well the savage as the citizen, the slave as well as\nthe master; and the same powers of the mind may be turned to a variety of\npurposes. A modern Greek, perhaps, is mischievous, slavish, and cunning,\nfrom the same animated temperament that made his ancestor ardent,\ningenious, and bold, in the camp, or in the council of his nation. A\nmodern Italian is distinguished by sensibility, quickness, and art, while\nhe employs on trifles the capacity of an ancient Roman; and exhibits now,\nin the scene of amusement, and in the search of a frivolous applause, that\nfire, and those passions, with which Gracchus burned in the forum, and\nshook the assemblies of a severer people.\n\nThe commercial and lucrative arts have been, in some climates, the\nprincipal object of mankind, and have been retained through every disaster;\nin others, even under all the fluctuations of fortune, they have still been\nneglected; while in the temperate climates of Europe and Asia, they have\nhad their ages of admiration as well as contempt.\n\nIn one state of society arts are slighted, from that very ardour of mind,\nand principle of activity, by which, in another, they are practised with\nthe greatest success. While men are engrossed by their passions, heated and\nroused by the struggles and dangers of their country; while the trumpet\nsounds or the alarm of social engagement is rung, and the heart beats high,\nit were a mark of dulness, or of an abject spirit, to find leisure for the\nstudy of ease, or the pursuit of improvements, which have mere convenience\nor ease for their object.\n\nThe frequent vicissitudes and reverses of fortune, which nations have\nexperienced on that very ground where the arts have prospered, are probably\nthe effects of a busy, inventive, and versatile spirit, by which men have\ncarried every national change to extremes. They have raised the fabric of\ndespotic empire to its greatest height, where they had best understood the\nfoundations of freedom. They perished in the flames which they themselves\nhad kindled; and they only, perhaps, were capable of displaying, by turns,\nthe greatest improvements, or the lowest corruptions, to which the human\nmind can be brought.\n\nOn this scene, mankind have twice, within the compass of history, ascended\nfrom rude beginnings to very high degrees of refinement. In every age,\nwhether destined by its temporary disposition to build, or to destroy, they\nhave left the vestiges of an active and vehement spirit. The pavement and\nthe ruins of Rome are buried in dust, shaken from the feet of barbarians,\nwho trod with contempt on the refinements of luxury, and spurned those\narts, the use of which it was reserved for the posterity of the same people\nto discover and to admire. The tents of the wild Arab are even now pitched\namong the ruins of magnificent cities; and the waste fields which border on\nPalestine and Syria, are perhaps become again the nursery of infant\nnations. The chieftain of an Arab tribe, like the founder of Rome, may have\nalready fixed the roots of a plant that is to flourish in some future\nperiod, or laid the foundations of a fabric, that will attain to its\ngrandeur in some distant age.\n\nGreat part of Africa has been always unknown; but the silence of fame, on\nthe subject of its revolutions, is an argument, where no other proof can be\nfound, of weakness in the genius of its people. The torrid zone, every\nwhere round the globe, however known to the geographer, has furnished few\nmaterials for history; and though in many places supplied with the arts of\nlife in no contemptible degree, has no where matured the more important\nprojects of political wisdom, nor inspired the virtues which are connected\nwith freedom, and which are required in the conduct of civil affairs.\n\nIt was indeed in the torrid zone that mere arts of mechanism and\nmanufacture were found, among the inhabitants of the new world, to have\nmade the greatest advance: it is in India, and in the regions of this\nhemisphere, which are visited by the vertical sun, that the arts of\nmanufacture, and the practice of commerce, are of the greatest antiquity,\nand have survived, with the smallest diminution, the ruins of time, and the\nrevolutions of empire.\n\nThe sun, it seems, which ripens the pineapple and the tamarind, inspires a\ndegree of mildness that can even assuage the rigours of despotical\ngovernment: and such is the effect of a gentle and pacific disposition in\nthe natives of the east, that no conquest, no irruption of barbarians,\nterminates, as they did among the stubborn natives of Europe, by a total\ndestruction of what the love of ease and of pleasure had produced.\n\nTransferred, without any great struggle, from one master to another, the\nnatives of India are ready, upon every change, to pursue their industry, to\nacquiesce in the enjoyment of life, and the hopes of animal pleasure: the\nwars of conquest are not prolonged to exasperate the parties engaged in\nthem, or to desolate the land for which those parties contend: even the\nbarbarous invader leaves untouched the commercial settlement which has not\nprovoked his rage: though master of opulent cities, he only encamps, in\ntheir neighbourhood, and leaves to his heirs the option of entering, by\ndegrees, on the pleasures, the vices, and the pageantries which his\nacquisitions afford: his successors, still more than himself, are disposed\nto foster the hive, in proportion as they taste more of its sweets; and\nthey spare the inhabitant, together with his dwelling, as they spare the\nherd or the stall, of which they are become the proprietors.\n\nThe modern description of India is a repetition of the ancient, and the\npresent state of China is derived from a distant antiquity, to which there\nis no parallel in the history of mankind. The succession of monarchs has\nbeen changed; but no revolutions have affected the state. The African and\nthe Samoiede are not more uniform in their ignorance and barbarity, than\nthe Chinese and the Indian, if we may credit their own story, have been in\nthe practice of manufacture, and in the observance of a certain police,\nwhich was calculated only to regulate their traffic, and to protect them in\ntheir application to servile or lucrative arts.\n\nIf we pass from these general representations of what mankind have done, to\nthe more minute description of the animal himself, as he has occupied\ndifferent climates, and is diversified in his temper, complexion, and\ncharacter, we shall find a variety of genius corresponding to the effects\nof his conduct, and the result of his story.\n\nMan, in the perfection of his natural faculties, is quick and delicate in\nhis sensibility; extensive and various in his imaginations and reflections;\nattentive, penetrating, and subtile, in what relates to his fellow\ncreatures; firm and ardent in his purposes; devoted to friendship or to\nenmity; jealous of his independence and his honour, which he will not\nrelinquish for safety or for profit: under all his corruptions or\nimprovements, he retains his natural sensibility, if not his force; and his\ncommerce is a blessing or a curse, according to the direction his mind has\nreceived.\n\nBut under the extremes of heat or of cold, the active range of the human\nsoul appears to be limited; and men are of inferior importance, either as\nfriends, or as enemies. In the one extreme, they are dull and slow,\nmoderate in their desires, regular, and pacific in their manner of life; in\nthe other, they are feverish in their passions, weak in their judgments,\nand addicted by temperament, to animal pleasure. In both the heart is\nmercenary, and makes important concessions for childish bribes: in both the\nspirit is prepared for servitude: in the one it is subdued by fear of the\nfuture; in the other it is not roused even by its sense of the present.\n\nThe nations of Europe who would settle or conquer on the south or the north\nof their own happier climates, find little resistance: they extend their\ndominion at pleasure, and find no where a limit but in the ocean, and in\nthe satiety of conquest. With few of the pangs and the struggles that\nprecede the reduction of nations, mighty provinces have been successively\nannexed to the territory of Russia; and its sovereign, who accounts within\nhis domain, entire tribes, with whom perhaps none of his emissaries have\never conversed, despatched a few geometers to extend his empire, and thus\nto execute a project, in which the Romans were obliged to employ their\nconsuls and their legions. [Footnote: See Russian Atlas.] These modern\nconquerors complain of rebellion, where they meet with repugnance; and are\nsurprised at being treated as enemies, where they come to impose their\ntribute.\n\nIt appears, however, that on the shores of the Eastern sea, they have met\nwith nations [Footnote: The Tchutzi.] who have questioned their title to\nreign, and who have considered the requisition of a tax as the demand of\neffects for nothing. Here perhaps may be found the genius of ancient\nEurope; and under its name of ferocity, the spirit of national\nindependence; [Footnote: Notes to the Genealogical History of the Tartars,\nvouched by Strahlenberg.] that spirit which disputed its ground in the west\nwith the victorious armies of Rome, and baffled the attempts of the Persian\nmonarchs to comprehend the villages of Greece within the bounds of their\nextensive dominion.\n\nThe great and striking diversities which obtain betwixt the inhabitants of\nclimates far removed from each other, are, like the varieties of other\nanimals in different regions, easily observed. The horse and the reindeer\nare just emblems of the Arab and the Laplander: the native of Arabia, like\nthe animal for whose race his country is famed, whether wild in the woods,\nor tutored by art, is lively, active, and fervent in the exercise on which\nhe is bent. This race of men, in their rude state, fly to the desert for\nfreedom, and in roving bands alarm the frontiers of empire, and strike a\nterror in the province to which their moving encampments advance.\n[Footnote: D'Arvieux.] When roused by the prospect of conquest, or disposed\nto act on a plan, they spread their dominion, and their system of\nimagination, over mighty tracts of the earth: when possessed of property\nand of settlement, they set the example of a lively invention, and superior\ningenuity, in the practice of arts, and the study of science. The\nLaplander, on the contrary, like the associate of his climate, is hardy,\nindefatigable, and patient of famine; dull rather than tame; serviceable in\na particular tract; and incapable of change. Whole nations continue from\nage to age in the same condition, and, with immoveable phlegm, submit to\nthe appellations of _Dane_, of _Swede_, or of _Muscovite_, according\nto the land they inhabit; and suffer their country to be severed\nlike a common, by the line on which those nations have traced their limits\nof empire.\n\nIt is not in the extremes alone that these varieties of genius may be\nclearly distinguished. Their continual change keeps pace with the\nvariations of climate with which we suppose them connected: and though\ncertain degrees of capacity, penetration, and ardour, are not the lot of\nentire nations, nor the vulgar properties of any people; yet their unequal\nfrequency, and unequal measure, in different countries, are sufficiently\nmanifest from the manners, the tone of conversation, the talent for\nbusiness, amusement, and the literary composition, which predominate in\neach.\n\nIt is to the southern nations of Europe, both ancient and modern, that we\nowe the invention and embellishment of that mythology, and those early\ntraditions, which continue to furnish the materials of fancy, and the field\nof poetic allusion. To them we owe the romantic tales of chivalry, as well\nas the subsequent models of a more rational style, by which the heart and\nthe imagination are kindled, and the understanding informed.\n\nThe fruits of industry have abounded most in the north, and the study of\nscience has here received its most solid improvements: the efforts of\nimagination and sentiment were most frequent and most successful in the\nsouth. While the shores of the Baltic became famed for the studies of\nCopernicus, Tycho Brahe, and Kepler, those of the Mediterranean were\ncelebrated for giving birth to men of genius in all its variety, and for\nhaving abounded with poets and historians, as well as with men of science.\n\nOn one side, learning took its rise from the heart and the fancy; on the\nother, it is still confined to the judgment and the memory. A faithful\ndetail of public transactions, with little discernment of their comparative\nimportance; the treaties and the claims of nations, the births and\ngenealogies of princes, are, in the literature of northern nations, amply\npreserved; while the lights of the understanding, and the feelings of the\nheart, are suffered to perish. The history of the human character; the\ninteresting memoir, founded no less on the careless proceedings of a\nprivate life, than on the formal transactions of a public station; the\ningenious pleasantry, the piercing ridicule, the tender, pathetic, or the\nelevated strain of elocution, have been confined in modern, as well as\nancient times, with a few exceptions, to the same latitudes with the fig\nand the vine.\n\nThese diversities of natural genius, if real, must have great part of their\nfoundation in the animal frame; and it has been often observed, that the\nvine flourishes, where, to quicken the ferments of the human blood, its\naids are the least required. While spirituous liquors are, among\nsouthern nations, from a sense of their ruinous effects, prohibited; or\nfrom a love of decency, and the possession of a temperament sufficiently\nwarm, not greatly desired; they carry in the north a peculiar charm, while\nthey awaken the mind, and give a taste of that lively fancy and ardour of\npassion, which the climate is found to deny.\n\nThe melting desires, or the fiery passions, which in one climate take place\nbetween the sexes, are in another changed into a sober consideration, or a\npatience of mutual disgust. This change is remarked in crossing the\nMediterranean, in following the course of the Mississippi, in ascending the\nmountains of Caucasus, and in passing from the Alps and the Pyrenees to the\nshores of the Baltic.\n\nThe female sex domineers on the frontier of Louisiana, by the double engine\nof superstition, and of passion. They are slaves among the native\ninhabitants of Canada, and are chiefly valued for the toils they endure,\nand the domestic service they yield. [Footnote: Charlevoix.]\n\nThe burning ardours, and the torturing jealousies of the seraglio and the\nharam, which have reigned so long in Asia and Africa, and which, in the\nsouthern parts of Europe, have scarcely given way to the difference of\nreligion and civil establishments, are found, however, with an abatement of\nheat in the climate, to be more easily changed in one latitude, into a\ntemporary passion which engrosses the mind, without enfeebling it, and\nexcites to romantic achievements: by a farther progress to the north, it is\nchanged into a spirit of gallantry, which employs the wit and the fancy\nmore than the heart; which prefers intrigue to enjoyment; and substitutes\naffectation and vanity where sentiment and desire have failed. As it\ndeparts from the sun, the same passion is farther composed into a habit of\ndomestic connection, or frozen into a state of insensibility, under which\nthe sexes at freedom scarcely choose to unite their society.\n\nThese variations of temperament and character do not indeed correspond with\nthe number of degrees that are measured from the equator to the pole; nor\ndoes the temperature of the air itself depend on the latitude. Varieties of\nsoil and position, the distance or neighbourhood of the sea, are known to\naffect the atmosphere, and may have signal effects in composing the animal\nframe.\n\nThe climates of America, though taken under the same parallel, are observed\nto differ from those of Europe. There, extensive marshes, great lakes,\naged, decayed, and crowded forests, with the other circumstances that mark\nan uncultivated country, are supposed to replenish the air with heavy and\nnoxious vapours, that give a double asperity to the winter; and during many\nmonths, by the frequency and continuance of fogs, snow, and frost, carry\nthe inconveniencies of the frigid zone far into the temperate. The Samoiede\nand the Laplander, however, have their counterpart, though on a lower\nlatitude, on the shores of America: the Canadian and the Iroquois bear a\nresemblance to the ancient inhabitants of the middling climates of Europe.\nThe Mexican, like the Asiatic of India, being addicted to pleasure, was\nsunk in effeminacy; and in the neighbourhood of the wild and the free, had\nsuffered to be raised on his weakness a domineering superstition, and a\npermanent fabric of despotical government.\n\nGreat part of Tartary lies under the same parallels with Greece, Italy, and\nSpain; but the climates are found to be different; and while the shores,\nnot only of the Mediterranean, but even those of the Atlantic, are favoured\nwith a moderate change and vicissitude of seasons, the eastern parts of\nEurope, and the northern continent of Asia, are afflicted with all their\nextremes. In one season, we are told, that the plagues of an ardent summer\nreach almost to the frozen sea; and that the inhabitant is obliged to\nscreen himself from noxious vermin in the same clouds of smoke in which he\nmust, at a different time of the year, take shelter from the rigours of\ncold. When winter returns, the transition is rapid, and with an asperity\nalmost equal in every latitude, lays waste the face of the earth, from the\nnorthern confines of Siberia, to the descents of Mount Caucasus and the\nfrontier of India.\n\nWith this unequal distribution of climate, by which the lot, as well as the\nnational character, of the northern Asiatic may be deemed inferior to that\nof Europeans, who lie under the same parallels, a similar gradation of\ntemperament and spirit, however, has been observed, in following the\nmeridian on either tract; and the southern Tartar has over the Tonguses and\nthe Sanmoiede the same pre-eminence, that certain nations of Europe are\nknown to possess over their northern neighbours, in situations more\nadvantageous to both.\n\nThe southern hemisphere scarcely offers a subject of like observation. The\ntemperate zone is there still undiscovered, or is only known in two\npromontories, the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Horn, which stretch into\nmoderate latitudes on that side of the line. But the savage of South\nAmerica, notwithstanding the interposition of the nations of Peru and of\nMexico, is found to resemble his counterpart on the north; and the\nHottentot, in many things, the barbarian of Europe: he is tenacious of\nfreedom, has rudiments of policy, and a national vigour, which serve to\ndistinguish his race from the other African tribes, who are exposed to the\nmore vertical rays of the sun.\n\nWhile we have, in these observations, only thrown out what must present\nitself on the most cursory view of the history of mankind, or what may be\npresumed from the mere obscurity of some nations, who inhabit great tracts\nof the earth, as well as from the lustre of others, we are still unable to\nexplain the manner in which climate may affect the temperament, or foster\nthe genius of its inhabitant.\n\nThat the temper of the heart, and the intellectual operations of the mind,\nare, in some measure, dependent on the state of the animal organs, is well\nknown from experience. Men differ from themselves in sickness and in\nhealth; under a change of diet, of air, and of exercise: but we are, even\nin these familiar instances, at a loss how to connect the cause with its\nsupposed effect: and though climate, by including a variety of such causes,\nmay, by some regular influence, affect the characters of men, we can never\nhope to explain the manner of those influences till we have understood,\nwhat probably we shall never understand, the structure of those finer\norgans with which the operations of the soul are connected.\n\nWhen we point out, in the situation of a people, circumstances which, by\ndetermining their pursuits, regulate their habits, and their manner of\nlife; and when, instead of referring to the supposed physical source of\ntheir dispositions, we assign their inducements to a determinate conduct;\nin this we speak of effects and of causes whose connection is more\nfamiliarly known. We can understand, for instance, why a race of men like\nthe Samoiede, confined, during great part of the year, to darkness, or\nretired into caverns, should differ in their manners and apprehensions from\nthose who are at liberty in every season; or who, instead of seeking relief\nfrom the extremities of cold, are employed in search of precautions against\nthe oppressions of a burning sun. Fire and exercise are the remedies of\ncold; repose and shade the securities from heat. The Hollander is laborious\nand industrious in Europe; he becomes more languid and slothful in India.\n[Footnote: The Dutch sailors, who were employed in the siege of Malaco,\ntore or burnt the sail cloth which was given them to make tents, that they\nmight not have the trouble of making or pitching them. _Voy. de\nMatelief._]\n\nGreat extremities, either of heat or cold, are perhaps, in a moral view,\nequally unfavourable to the active genius of mankind, and by presenting\nalike insuperable difficulties to be overcome, or strong inducements to\nindolence and sloth, equally prevent the first applications of ingenuity,\nor limit their progress. Some intermediate degrees of inconvenience in the\nsituation, at once excite the spirit, and, with the hopes of success,\nencourage its efforts. \"It Is in the least favourable situations,\" says Mr.\nRousseau, \"that the arts have flourished the most. I could show them in\nEgypt, as they spread with the overflowing of the Nile; and in Attica, as\nthey mounted up to the clouds, from a rocky soil and from barren sands;\nwhile on the fertile banks of the Eurotas, they were not able to fasten\ntheir roots.\"\n\nWhere mankind from the first subsist by toil, and in the midst of\ndifficulties, the defects of their situation are supplied by industry: and\nwhile dry, tempting, and healthful lands are left uncultivated, [Footnote:\nCompare the state of Hungary with that of Holland.] the pestilent marsh is\ndrained with great labour, and the sea is fenced off with mighty barriers,\nthe materials and the costs of which, the soil to be gained can scarcely\nafford, or repay. Harbours are opened, and crowded with shipping, where\nvessels of burden, if they are not constructed with a view to the\nsituation, have not water to float. Elegant and magnificent edifices are\nraised on foundations of slime; and all the conveniencies of human life are\nmade to abound, where nature does not seem to have prepared a reception for\nmen. It is in vain to expect, that the residence of arts and commerce\nshould be determined by the possession of natural advantages. Men do more\nwhen they have certain difficulties to surmount, than when they have\nsupposed blessings to enjoy: and the shade of the barren oak and the pine\nare more favourable to the genius of mankind, than that of the palm or the\ntamarind.\n\nAmong the advantages which enable nations to run the career of policy, as\nwell as of arts, it may be expected, from the observations already made,\nthat we should reckon every circumstance which enable them to divide and to\nmaintain themselves in distinct and independent communities. The society\nand concourse of other men are not more necessary to form the individual,\nthan the rivalship and competition of nations are to invigorate the\nprinciples of political life in a state. Their wars, and their treaties,\ntheir mutual jealousies, and the establishments which they devise with a\nview to each other, constitute more than half the occupations of mankind,\nand furnish materials for their greatest and most improving exertions. For\nthis reason, clusters of islands, a continent divided by many natural\nbarriers, great rivers, ridges of mountains, and arms of the sea, are best\nfitted for becoming the nursery of independent and respectable nations. The\ndistinction of states being clearly maintained, a principle of political\nlife is established in every division, and the capital of every district,\nlike the heart of an animal body, communicates with ease the vital blood\nand the national spirit to its members.\n\nThe most respectable nations have always been found, where at least one\npart of the frontier has been washed by the sea. This barrier, perhaps the\nstrongest of all in the times of ignorance, does not, however, even then\nsupersede the cares of a national defence; and in the advanced state of\narts, gives the greatest scope and facility to commerce.\n\nThriving and independent nations were accordingly scattered on the shores\nof the Pacific and the Atlantic. They surrounded the Red Sea, the\nMediterranean, and the Baltic; while, a few tribes excepted, who retire\namong the mountains bordering on India and Persia, or who have found some\nrude establishment among the creeks and the shores of the Caspian and the\nEuxine, there is scarcely a people in the vast continent of Asia who\ndeserves the name of a nation. The unbounded plain is traversed at large by\nhordes, who are in perpetual motion, or who are displaced and harassed by\ntheir mutual hostilities. Although they are never perhaps actually blended\ntogether in the course of hunting, or in the search of pasture, they cannot\nbear one great distinction of nations, which is taken from the territory,\nand which is deeply impressed by an affection to the native seat. They move\nin troops, without the arrangement or the concert of nations; they become\neasy accessions to every new empire among themselves, or to the Chinese and\nthe Muscovite, with whom they hold a traffic for the means of subsistence,\nand the materials of pleasure.\n\nWhere a happy system of nations is formed, they do not rely for the\ncontinuance of their separate names, and for that of their political\nindependence, on the barriers erected by nature. Mutual jealousies lead to\nthe maintenance of a balance of power; and this principle, more than the\nRhine and the Ocean, than the Alps and the Pyrenees in modern Europe; more\nthan the straits of Thermopylae, the mountains of Thrace, or the bays of\nSalamine and Corinth in ancient Greece, tended to prolong the separation,\nto which the inhabitants of these happy climates have owed their felicity\nas nations, the lustre of their fame, and their civil accomplishments.\n\nIf we mean to pursue the history of civil society, our attention must be\nchiefly directed to such examples, and we must here bid farewell to those\nregions of the earth, on which our species, by the effects of situation or\nclimate, appear to be restrained in their national pursuits, or inferior in\nthe powers of the mind.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION II.\n\nTHE HISTORY OF POLITICAL ESTABLISHMENTS.\n\n\nWe have hitherto observed mankind, either united together on terms of\nequality, or disposed to admit of a subordination founded merely on the\nvoluntary respect and attachment which they paid to their leaders; but, in\nboth cases, without any concerted plan of government, or system of laws.\n\nThe savage, whose fortune is comprised in his cabin, his fur, and his arms,\nis satisfied with that provision, and with that degree of security, he\nhimself can procure. He perceives, in treating with his equal, no subject\nof discussion that should be referred to the decision of a judge; nor does\nhe find in any hand the badges of magistracy, or the ensigns of a perpetual\ncommand.\n\nThe barbarian, though induced by his admiration of personal qualities, the\nlustre of a heroic race, or a superiority of fortune, to follow the banners\nof a leader, and to act a subordinate part in his tribe, knows not, that\nwhat he performs from choice, is to be made a subject of obligation. He\nacts from affections unacquainted with forms; and when provoked, or when\nengaged in disputes, he recurs to the sword, as the ultimate means of\ndecision, in all questions of right.\n\nHuman affairs, in the mean time, continue their progress. What was in one\ngeneration a propensity to herd with the species, becomes in the ages which\nfollow, a principle of natural union. What was originally an alliance for\ncommon defence, becomes a concerted plan of political force; the care of\nsubsistence becomes an anxiety for accumulating wealth, and the foundation\nof commercial arts.\n\nMankind, in following the present sense of their minds, in striving to\nremove inconveniencies, or to gain apparent and contiguous advantages,\narrive at ends which even their imagination could not anticipate; and pass\non, like other animals, in the track of their nature, without perceiving\nits end. He who first said; \"I will appropriate this field; I will leave it\nto my heirs;\" did not perceive, that he was laying the foundation of civil\nlaws and political establishments. He who first ranged himself under a\nleader, did not perceive, that he was setting the example of a permanent\nsubordination, under the pretence of which, the rapacious were to seize his\npossessions, and the arrogant to lay claim to his service.\n\nMen, in general, are sufficiently disposed to occupy themselves in forming\nprojects and schemes; but he who would scheme and project for others, will\nfind an opponent in every person who is disposed to scheme for himself.\nLike the winds that come we know not whence, and blow whithersoever they\nlist, the forms of society are derived from an obscure and distant origin;\nthey arise, long before the date of philosophy, from the instincts, not\nfrom the speculations of men. The crowd of mankind are directed, in their\nestablishments and measures, by the circumstances in which they are placed;\nand seldom are turned from their way, to follow the plan of any single\nprojector.\n\nEvery step and every movement of the multitude, even in what are termed\nenlightened ages, are made with equal blindness to the future; and nations\nstumble upon establishments, which are indeed the result of human action,\nbut not the execution of any human design. [Footnote: De Retz's Memoirs.]\nIf Cromwell said, that a man never mounts higher, than when he knows not\nwhither he is going; it may with more reason be affirmed of communities,\nthat they admit of the greatest revolutions where no change is intended,\nand that the most refined politicians do not always know whither they are\nleading the state by their projects.\n\nIf we listen to the testimony of modern history, and to that of the most\nauthentic parts of the ancient; if we attend to the practice of nations in\nevery quarter of the world, and in every condition, whether that of the\nbarbarian or the polished, we shall find very little reason to retract this\nassertion. No constitution is formed by concert, no government is copied\nfrom a plan. The members of a small state contend for equality; the members\nof a greater, find themselves classed in a certain manner that lays a\nfoundation for monarchy. They proceed from one form of government to\nanother, by easy transitions, and frequently under old names adopt a new\nconstitution. The seeds of every form are lodged in human nature; they\nspring up and ripen with the season. The prevalence of a particular species\nis often derived from an imperceptible ingredient mingled in the soil.\n\nWe are therefore to receive, with caution, the traditionary histories of\nancient legislators, and founders of states. Their names have long been\ncelebrated; their supposed plans have been admired; and what were probably\nthe consequences of an early situation, is, in every instance, considered\nas an effect of design. An author and a work, like cause and effect, are\nperpetually coupled together. This is the simplest form under which we can\nconsider the establishment of nations: and we ascribe to a previous design,\nwhat came to be known only by experience, what no human wisdom could\nforesee, and what, without the concurring humour and disposition of his\nage, no authority could enable an individual to execute.\n\nIf men, during ages of extensive reflection, and employed in the search of\nimprovement, are wedded to their institutions; and, labouring under many\nacknowledged inconveniencies, cannot break loose from the trammels of\ncustom; what shall we suppose their humour to have been in the times of\nRomulus and Lycurgus? They were not surely more disposed to embrace the\nschemes of innovators, or to shake off the impressions of habit: they were\nnot more pliant and ductile, when their knowledge was less; not more\ncapable of refinement, when their minds were more circumscribed.\n\nWe imagine, perhaps, that rude nations must have so strong a sense of the\ndefects under which they labour, and be so conscious that reformations are\nrequisite in their manners, that they must be ready to adopt, with joy,\nevery plan of improvement, and to receive every plausible proposal with\nimplicit compliance. And we are thus inclined to believe, that the harp of\nOrpheus could effect, in one age, what the eloquence of Plato could not\nproduce in another. We mistake, however, the characteristic of simple ages:\nmankind then appear to feel the fewest defects, and are then least desirous\nto enter on reformations.\n\nThe reality, in the mean time, of certain establishments at Rome and at\nSparta, cannot be disputed: but it is probable; that the government of both\nthese states took its rise from the situation and genius of the people, not\nfrom the projects of single men; that the celebrated warrior and statesman,\nwho are considered as the founders of those nations, only acted a superior\npart among numbers who were disposed to the same institutions; and that\nthey left to posterity a renown, pointing them out as the inventors of many\npractices which had been already in use, and which helped to form their own\nmanners and genius, as well as those of their countrymen.\n\nIt has been formerly observed, that, in many particulars, the customs of\nsimple nations coincide with what is ascribed to the invention of early\nstatesmen; that the model of republican government, the senate, and the\nassembly of the people; that even the equality of property, or the\ncommunity of goods, were not reserved to the invention or contrivance of\nsingular men.\n\nIf we consider Romulus as the founder of the Roman state, certainly he who\nkilled his brother, that he might reign alone, did not desire to come under\nrestraints from the controling power of the senate, nor to refer the\ncouncils of his sovereignty to the decision of a collective body. Love of\ndominion is, by its nature, averse to restraint; and this chieftain, like\nevery leader in a rude age, probably found a class of men ready to intrude\non his councils, and without whom he could not proceed. He met with\noccasions, on which, as at the sound of a trumpet, the body of the people\nassembled, and took resolutions, which any individual might in vain\ndispute, or attempt to control; and Rome, which commenced on the general\nplan of every artless society, found lasting improvements in the pursuit of\ntemporary expedients, and digested her political frame in adjusting the\npretensions of parties which arose in the state.\n\nMankind, in very early ages of society, learn to covet riches, and to\nadmire distinction: they have avarice and ambition, and are occasionally\nled by these passions to depredations and conquest: but in their ordinary\nconduct, are guided or restrained by different motives; by sloth or\nintemperance; by personal attachments, or personal animosities; which\nmislead from the attention to interest. These motives or habits render\nmankind, at times, remiss or outrageous: they prove the source of civil\npeace or of civil disorder, but disqualify those who are actuated by them,\nfrom maintaining any fixed usurpation; slavery and rapine, in the case of\nevery community, are first threatened from abroad, and war, either\noffensive or defensive, is the great business of every tribe. The enemy\noccupy their thoughts; they have no leisure for domestic dissentions. It is\nthe desire of every separate community, however, to secure itself; and in\nproportion as it gains this object, by strengthening its barrier, by\nweakening its enemy, or by procuring allies, the individual at home\nbethinks him of what he may gain or lose for himself: the leader is\ndisposed to enlarge the advantages which belong to his station; the\nfollower becomes jealous of rights which are open to encroachment; and\nparties who united before, from affection and habit, or from a regard to\ntheir common preservation, disagree in supporting their several claims to\nprecedence or profit.\n\nWhen the animosities of faction are thus awakened at home, and the\npretensions of freedom are opposed to those of dominion, the members of\nevery society find a new scene upon which to exert their activity. They had\nquarrelled, perhaps, on points of interest; they had balanced between\ndifferent leaders; but they had never united as citizens, to withstand the\nencroachments of sovereignty, or to maintain their common rights as a\npeople. If the prince, in this contest, finds numbers to support, as well\nas to oppose his pretensions, the sword which was whetted against foreign\nenemies, may be pointed at the bosom of fellow subjects, and every interval\nof peace from abroad, be filled with domestic war. The sacred names of\nliberty, justice, and civil order, are made to resound in public\nassemblies; and, during the absence of other alarms, give to society,\nwithin itself, an abundant subject of ferment and animosity.\n\nIf what is related of the little principalities which, in ancient times,\nwere formed in Greece, in Italy, and over all Europe, agrees with the\ncharacter we have given of mankind under the first impressions of property,\nof interest, and of hereditary distinctions; the seditions and domestic\nwars which followed in those very states, the expulsion of their kings, or\nthe questions which arose concerning the prerogatives of the sovereign, or\nprivilege of the subject, are agreeable to the representation which we now\ngive of the first step toward political establishment, and the desire of a\nlegal constitution.\n\nWhat this constitution may be in its earliest form, depends on a variety of\ncircumstances in the condition of nations: it depends on the extent of the\nprincipality in its rude state; on the degree of disparity to which mankind\nhad submitted before they begun to dispute the abuses of power: it depends\nlikewise on what we term _accidents_, the personal character of an\nindividual, or the events of a war.\n\nEvery community is originally a small one. That propensity by which mankind\nat first unite, is not the principle from which they afterwards act in\nextending the limits of empire. Small tribes, where they are not assembled\nby common objects of conquest or safety, are even averse to a coalition.\nIf, like the real or fabulous confederacy of the Greeks for the destruction\nof Troy, many nations combine in pursuit of a single object, they easily\nseparate again, and act anew on the maxims of rival states.\n\nThere is, perhaps a certain national extent, within which the passions of\nmen are easily communicated from one, or a few, to the whole; and there are\ncertain numbers of men who can be assembled, and act in a body. If, while\nthe society is not enlarged beyond this dimension, and while its members\nare easily assembled, political contentions arise, the state seldom fails\nto proceed on republican maxims, and to establish democracy. In most rude\nprincipalities, the leader derived his prerogative from the lustre of his\nrace, and from the voluntary attachment of his tribe: the people he\ncommanded were his friends, his subjects, and his troops. If we suppose,\nupon any change in their manners, that they cease to revere his dignity,\nthat they pretend to equality among themselves, or are seized with a\njealousy of his assuming too much, the foundations of his power are already\nwithdrawn. When the voluntary subject becomes refractory; when considerable\nparties, or the collective body, choose to act for themselves; the small\nkingdom, like that of Athens, becomes of course a republic.\n\nThe changes of condition, and of manners, which, in the progress of\nmankind, raise up to nations a leader and a prince, create, at the same\ntime, a nobility and a variety of ranks, who have, in a subordinate degree,\ntheir claim to distinction. Superstition, too, may create an order of men,\nwho, under the title of priesthood, engage in the pursuit of a separate\ninterest; who, by their union and firmness as a body, and by their\nincessant ambition, deserve to be reckoned in the list of pretenders to\npower. These different orders of men are the elements of whose mixture the\npolitical body is generally formed; each draws to its side some part from\nthe mass of the people. The people themselves are a party upon occasion;\nand numbers of men, however classed and distinguished, become, by their\njarring pretensions and separate views, mutual interruptions and checks;\nand have, by bringing to the national councils the maxims and apprehensions\nof a particular order, and by guarding a particular interest, a share in\nadjusting or preserving the political form of the state.\n\nThe pretensions of any particular order, if not checked by some collateral\npower, would terminate in tyranny; those of a prince, in despotism; those\nof a nobility or priesthood, in the abuses of aristocracy; of a populace,\nin the confusions of anarchy. These terminations, as they are never the\nprofessed, so are they seldom even the disguised object of party: but the\nmeasures which any party pursues, if suffered to prevail, will lead, by\ndegrees, to every extreme.\n\nIn their way to the ascendant they endeavour to gain, and in the midst of\ninterruptions which opposite interests mutually give, liberty may have a\npermanent or a transient existence; and the constitution may bear a form\nand a character as various as the casual combination of such multiplied\nparts can effect.\n\nTo bestow on communities some degree of political freedom, it is perhaps\nsufficient, that their members, either singly, or as they are involved with\ntheir several orders, should insist on their rights; that under republics,\nthe citizen should either maintain his own equality with firmness, or\nrestrain the ambition of his fellow citizen within moderate bounds; that\nunder monarchy, men of every rank should maintain the honours of their\nprivate or their public stations; and sacrifice neither to the impositions\nof a court, nor to the claims of a populace, those dignities which are\ndestined, in some measure, independent of fortune, to give stability to the\nthrone, and to procure a respect to the subject.\n\nAmidst the contentions of party, the interests of the public, even the\nmaxims of justice and candour, are sometimes forgotten; and yet those fatal\nconsequences which such a measure of corruption seems to portend, do not\nunavoidably follow. The public interest is often secure, not because\nindividuals are disposed to regard it as the end of their conduct, but\nbecause each, in his place, is determined to preserve his own. Liberty is\nmaintained by the continued differences and oppositions of numbers, not by\ntheir concurring zeal in behalf of equitable government. In free states,\ntherefore, the wisest laws are never, perhaps, dictated by the interest and\nspirit of any order of men: they are moved, they are opposed, or amended,\nby different hands; and come at last to express that medium and composition\nwhich contending parties have forced one another to adopt.\n\nWhen we consider the history of mankind in this view, we cannot be at a\nloss for the causes which, in small communities, threw the balance on the\nside of democracy; which, in states more enlarged in respect to territory\nand number of people, gave the ascendant to monarchy; and which, in a\nvariety of conditions and of different ages, enabled mankind to blend and\nunite the characters of different forms; and, instead of any of the simple\nconstitutions we have mentioned, [Footnote: Part I. Sect. 10.] to exhibit a\nmedley of all.\n\nIn emerging from a state of rudeness and simplicity, men must be expected\nto act from that spirit of equality, or moderate subordination, to which\nthey have been accustomed. When crowded together in cities, or within the\ncompass of a small territory, they act by contagious passions, and every\nindividual feels a degree of importance proportioned to his figure in the\ncrowd, and the smallness of its numbers. The pretenders to power and\ndominion appear in too familiar a light to impose upon the multitude, and\nthey have no aids at their call, by which they can bridle the refractory\nhumours of a people who resist their pretensions. Theseus, king of Attica,\nwe are told, assembled the inhabitants of its twelve cantons into one city.\nIn this he took an effectual method to unite into one democracy, what were\nbefore the separate members of his monarchy, and to hasten the downfall of\nthe regal power.\n\nThe monarch of an extensive territory has many advantages in maintaining\nhis station. Without any grievance to his subjects, he can support the\nmagnificence of a royal estate, and dazzle the imagination of his people,\nby that very wealth which themselves have bestowed. He can employ the\ninhabitants of one district against those of another; and while the\npassions that lead to mutiny and rebellion, can at any one time seize only\non a part of his subjects, he feels himself strong in the possession of a\ngeneral authority. Even the distance at which he resides from many of those\nwho receive his commands, augments the mysterious awe and respect which are\npaid to his government.\n\nWith these different tendencies, accident and corruption, however, joined\nto a variety of circumstances, may throw particular states from their bias,\nand produce exceptions to every general rule. This has actually happened in\nsome of the later principalities of Greece, and modern Italy, in Sweden,\nPoland, and the German Empire. But the united states of the Netherlands,\nand the Swiss cantons, are, perhaps, the most extensive communities, which,\nmaintaining the union of nations, have, for any considerable time, resisted\nthe tendency to monarchical government; and Sweden is the only instance of\na republic established in a great kingdom on the ruins of monarchy.\n\nThe sovereign of a petty district, or a single city, when not supported, as\nin modern Europe, by the contagion of monarchical manners, holds the\nsceptre by a precarious tenure, and is perpetually alarmed by the spirit of\nmutiny in his people, is guided by jealousy, and supports himself by\nseverity, prevention, and force.\n\nThe popular and aristocratical powers in a great nation, as in the case of\nGermany and Poland, may meet with equal difficulty in maintaining their\npretensions; and, in order to avoid their danger on the side of kingly\nusurpation, are obliged to withhold from the supreme magistrate even the\nnecessary trust of an executive power.\n\nThe states of Europe, in the manner of their first settlement, laid the\nfoundations of monarchy, and were prepared to unite under regular and\nextensive governments. If the Greeks, whose progress at home terminated in\nthe establishment of so many independent republics, had under Agamemnon\neffected a conquest and settlement in Asia, it is probable that they might\nhave furnished an example of the same kind. But the original inhabitants of\nany country, forming many separate cantons, come by slow degrees to that\ncoalition and union into which conquering tribes, in effecting their\nconquests, or in securing their possessions, are hurried at once.\nC\u00e6sar encountered some hundreds of independent nations in Gaul, whom even\ntheir common danger did not sufficiently unite. The German invaders, who\nsettled in the lands of the Romans, made, in the same district, a number\nof separate establishments, but far more extensive than what the ancient\nGauls, by their conjunction and treaties, or in the result of their wars,\ncould, after many ages, have reached.\n\nThe seeds of great monarchies, and the roots of extensive dominion, were\nevery where planted with the colonies that divided the Roman empire. We\nhave no exact account of the numbers, who, with a seeming concert,\ncontinued, during some ages, to invade and to seize this tempting prize.\nWhere they expected resistance, they endeavoured to muster up a\nproportional force; and when they proposed to settle, entire nations\nremoved to share in the spoil. Scattered over an extensive province, where\nthey could not be secure, without maintaining their union, they continued\nto acknowledge the leader under whom they had fought; and, like an army\nsent by divisions into separate stations, were prepared to assemble\nwhenever occasion should require their united operations or counsels.\n\nEvery separate party had its post assigned, and every subordinate chieftain\nhis possessions, from which he was to provide his own subsistence, and that\nof his followers. The model of government was taken from that of a military\nsubordination, and a fief was the temporary pay of an officer proportioned\nto his rank. [Footnote: See Dr. Robertson's History of Scotland, B.\n1.--Dalrymple's Hist. of Feudal Tenures.] There was a class of the people\ndestined to military service, another to labour, and to cultivate lands for\nthe benefit of their masters. The officer improved his tenure by degrees,\nfirst changing a temporary grant into a tenure for his life; and this also,\nupon the observance of certain conditions, into a grant including his\nheirs.\n\nThe rank of the nobles became hereditary in every quarter, and formed a\npowerful and permanent order of men in every state. While they held the\npeople in servitude, they disputed the claims of their sovereign; they\nwithdrew their attendance upon occasion, or turned their arms against him.\nThey formed a strong and insurmountable barrier against a general despotism\nin the state; but they were themselves, by means of their warlike\nretainers, the tyrants of every little district, and prevented the\nestablishment of order, or any regular applications of law. They took the\nadvantage of weak reigns or minorities, to push their encroachments on the\nsovereign; or having made the monarchy elective, they, by successive\ntreaties and stipulations, at every election, limited or undermined the\nmonarchical power. The prerogatives of the prince have been, in some\ninstances, as in that of the German empire in particular, reduced to a mere\ntitle; and the national union itself preserved in the observance only of a\nfew insignificant formalities.\n\nWhere the contest of the sovereign, and of his vassals, under hereditary\nand ample prerogatives annexed to the crown, had a different issue, the\nfeudal lordships were gradually stript of their powers, the nobles were\nreduced to the state of subjects, and, obliged to hold their honours, and\nexercise their jurisdictions, in a dependence on the prince. It was his\nsupposed interest to reduce them to a state of equal subjection with the\npeople, and to extend his own authority, by rescuing the labourer and the\ndependent from the oppressions of their immediate superiors.\n\nIn this project the princes of Europe have variously succeeded. While they\nprotected the people, and thereby encouraged the practice of commercial and\nlucrative arts, they paved the way for despotism in the state; and with the\nsame policy by which they relieved the subject from many oppressions, they\nincreased the powers of the crown.\n\nBut where the people had, by the constitution, a representative in the\ngovernment, and a head, under which they could avail themselves of the\nwealth they acquired, and of the sense of their personal importance, this\npolicy turned against the crown; it formed a new power to restrain the\nprerogative, to establish the government of law, and to exhibit a spectacle\nnew in the history of mankind; monarchy mixed with republic, and extensive\nterritory governed, during some ages, without military force.\n\nSuch were the steps by which the nations of Europe have arrived at their\npresent establishments: in some instances they have come to the possession\nof legal constitutions; in others, to the exercise of a mitigated\ndespotism; or they continue to struggle with the tendency which they\nseverally have to these different extremes.\n\nThe progress of empire, in the early ages of Europe, threatened to be\nrapid, and to bury the independent spirit of nations in a grave like that\nwhich the Ottoman conquerors found for themselves, and for the wretched\nrace they had vanquished. The Romans had by slow degrees extended their\nempire; they had made every new acquisition in the result of a tedious war,\nand had been obliged to plant colonies, and to employ a variety of\nmeasures, to secure every new possession. But the feudal superior being\nanimated, from the moment he gained an establishment, with a desire of\nextending his territory, and of enlarging the list of his vassals,\nprocured, by merely bestowing investiture, the annexation of new provinces,\nand became the master of states, before independent, without making any\nmaterial innovation in the form of their policy.\n\nSeparate principalities were, like the parts of an engine, ready to be\njoined, and, like the wrought materials of a building, ready to be erected.\nThey were in the result of their struggles put together or taken asunder\nwith facility. The independence of weak states was preserved only by the\nmutual jealousies of the strong, or by the general attention of all to\nmaintain a balance of power.\n\nThe happy system of policy on which European states have proceeded in\npreserving this balance; the degree of moderation which is, in adjusting\ntheir treaties, become habitual even to victorious and powerful monarchies,\ndoes honour to mankind, and may give hopes of a lasting felicity, to be\nderived from a prepossession, never, perhaps, equally strong in any former\nperiod, or among any number of nations, that the first conquering people\nwill ruin themselves, as well as their rivals.\n\nIt is in such states, perhaps, as in a fabric of a large dimension, that we\ncan perceive most distinctly the several parts of which a political body\nconsists; and observe that concurrence or opposition of interests, which\nserve to unite or to separate different orders of men, and lead them, by\nmaintaining their several claims, to establish a variety of political\nforms. The smallest republics, however, consist of parts similar to these,\nand of members who are actuated by a similar spirit. They furnish examples\nof government diversified by the casual combinations of parties, and by the\ndifferent advantages with which those parties engage in the conflict.\n\nIn every society there is a casual subordination, independent of its formal\nestablishment, and frequently adverse to its constitution. While the\nadministration and the people speak the language of a particular form, and\nseem to admit no pretensions to power, without a legal nomination in one\ninstance, or without the advantage of hereditary honours in another, this\ncasual subordination, possibly arising from the distribution of property,\nor from some other circumstance that bestows unequal degrees of influence,\ngives the state its tone, and fixes its character.\n\nThe plebeian order at Rome having been long considered as of an inferior\ncondition, and excluded from the higher offices of magistracy, had\nsufficient force, as a body, to get this invidious distinction removed;\nbut the individual still acting under the impressions of a subordinate\nrank, gave in every competition his suffrage to a patrician, whose\nprotection he had experienced; and whose personal authority he felt. By\nthis means the ascendancy of the patrician families was, for a certain\nperiod, as regular as it could be made by the avowed maxims of aristocracy:\nbut the higher offices of state being gradually shared by plebeians, the\neffects of former distinctions were prevented or weakened. The laws that\nwere made to adjust the pretensions of different orders were easily eluded.\nThe populace became a faction, and their alliance was the surest road to\ndominion. Clodius, by a pretended adoption into a plebeian family, was\nqualified to become tribune of the people; and Caesar, by espousing the\ncause of this faction, made his way to usurpation and tyranny.\n\nIn such fleeting and transient scenes, forms of government are only modes\nof proceeding, in, which successive ages differ from one another. Faction\nis ever ready to seize all occasional advantages; and mankind, when in\nhazard from any party, seldom find a better protection than that of its\nrival. Cato united with Pompey in opposition to Caesar, and guarded against\nnothing so much as that reconciliation of parties, which was in effect to\nbe a combination of different leaders against the freedom of the republic.\nThis illustrious personage stood distinguished in his age like a man among\nchildren, and was raised above his opponents, as much by the justness of\nhis understanding, and the extent of his penetration, as he was by the\nmanly fortitude and disinterestedness with which he strove to baffle the\ndesigns of a vain and childish ambition, that was operating to the ruin of\nmankind.\n\nAlthough free constitutions of government seldom or never take their rise\nfrom the scheme of any single projector, yet are they often preserved by\nthe vigilance, activity, and zeal of single men. Happy are they who\nunderstand and who choose this object of care; and happy it is for mankind\nwhen it is not chosen too late. It has been reserved to signalize the lives\nof a Cato or a Brutus, on the eve of fatal revolutions; to foster in secret\nthe indignation of Thrasea and Helvidius; and to occupy the reflections of\nspeculative men in times of corruption. But even in such late and\nineffectual examples, it was happy to know, and to value, an object which\nis so important to mankind. The pursuit, and the love of it, however\nunsuccessful, has thrown its principal lustre on human nature.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION III.\n\nOF NATIONAL OBJECTS IN GENERAL, AND OF ESTABLISHMENTS AND MANNERS RELATING\nTO THEM.\n\n\nWhile the mode of subordination is casual, and forms of government take\ntheir rise, chiefly from the manner in which the members of a state have\nbeen originally classed, and from a variety of circumstances that procure\nto particular orders of men a sway in their country, there are certain\nobjects that claim the attention of every government, that lead the\napprehensions and the reasonings of mankind in every society, and that not\nonly furnish an employment to statesmen, but in some measure direct the\ncommunity to those institutions, under the authority of which the\nmagistrate holds his power. Such are the national defence, the distribution\nof justice, the preservation and internal prosperity of the state. If these\nobjects be neglected, we must apprehend that the very scene in which\nparties contend for power, for privilege, or equality, must disappear, and\nsociety itself no longer exist.\n\nThe consideration due to these objects will be pleaded in every public\nassembly, and will produce, in every political contest, appeals to that\ncommon sense and opinion of mankind, which, struggling with the private\nviews of individuals, and the claims of party, may be considered as the\ngreat legislator of nations.\n\nThe measures required for the attainment of most national objects are\nconnected together, and must be jointly pursued; they are often the same.\nThe force which is prepared for defence against foreign enemies, may be\nlikewise employed to keep the peace at home: the laws made to secure the\nrights and liberties of the people, may serve as encouragements to\npopulation and commerce; and every community, without considering how its\nobjects may be classed or distinguished by speculative men, is, in every\ninstance, obliged to assume or to retain that form which is best fitted to\npreserve its advantages, or to avert its misfortunes.\n\nNations, however, like private men, have their favourite ends, and their\nprincipal pursuits, which diversify their manners, as well as their\nestablishments. They even attain to the same ends by different means; and,\nlike men who make their fortune by different professions, retain the habits\nof their principal calling in every condition at which they arrive. The\nRomans became wealthy in pursuing their conquests; and probably, for a\ncertain period, increased the numbers of mankind, while their disposition\nto war seemed to threaten the earth with desolation. Some modern nations\nproceed to dominion and enlargement on the maxims of commerce; and while\nthey only intend to accumulate riches at home, continue to gain an imperial\nascendant abroad.\n\nThe characters of the warlike and the commercial are variously combined:\nthey are formed in different degrees by the influence of circumstances,\nthat more or less frequently give rise to war, and excite the desire of\nconquest; of circumstances, that leave a people in quiet to improve their\ndomestic resources, or to purchase, by the fruits of their industry, from\nforeigners, what their own soil and their climate deny.\n\nThe members of every community are more or less occupied with matters of\nstate, in proportion as their constitution admits them to share in the\ngovernment, and summons up their attention to objects of a public nature. A\npeople are cultivated or unimproved in their talents, in proportion as\nthose talents are employed in the practice of arts, and in the affairs of\nsociety: they are improved or corrupted in their manners, in proportion as\nthey are encouraged and directed to act on the maxims of freedom and\njustice, or as they as they are degraded into a state of meanness and\nservitude. But whatever advantages are obtained, or whatever evils are\navoided, by nations, in any of these important respects, are generally\nconsidered as mere occasional incidents: they are seldom admitted among the\nobjects of policy, or entered among the reasons of state.\n\nWe hazard being treated with ridicule, when we require political\nestablishments, merely to cultivate the talents of men, and to inspire the\nsentiments of a liberal mind: we must offer some motive of interest, or\nsome hopes of external advantage, to animate the pursuits, or to direct the\nmeasures, of ordinary men. They would be brave, ingenious, and eloquent,\nonly from necessity, or for the sake of profit: they magnify the uses of\nwealth, population, and the other resources of war; but often forget that\nthese are of no consequence without the direction of able capacities, and\nwithout the supports of a national vigour. We may expect, therefore, to\nfind among states the bias to a particular policy taken from the regards to\npublic safety; from the desire of securing personal freedom or private\nproperty; seldom from the consideration of moral effects, or from a view to\nthe real improvement of mankind.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION IV.\n\nOF POPULATION AND WEALTH.\n\n\nWhen we imagine what the Romans must have felt when the tidings came that\nthe flower of their city had perished at Cann\u00e6; when we think of what the\norator had in his mind when he said, \"That the youth among the people was\nlike the spring among the seasons;\" when we hear of the joy with which the\nhuntsman and the warrior is adopted, in America, to sustain the honours of\nthe family and the nation; we are made to feel the most powerful motives to\nregard the increase and preservation of our fellow citizens. Interest,\naffection, and views of policy, combine to recommend this object; and it is\ntreated with entire neglect only by the tyrant who mistakes his own\nadvantage, by the statesman who trifles with the charge committed to his\ncare, or by the people who are become corrupted, and who consider their\nfellow subjects as rivals in interest, and competitors in their lucrative\npursuits.\n\nAmong rude societies, and among small communities in general, who are\nengaged in frequent struggles and difficulties, the preservation and\nincrease of their members is a most important object. The American rates\nhis defeat from the numbers of men he has lost, or he estimates his victory\nfrom the prisoners he has made; not from his having remained the master of\na field, or being driven from a ground on which he encountered his enemy. A\nman with whom he can associate in all his pursuits, whom he can embrace as\nhis friend; in whom he finds an object to his affections, and an aid in his\nstruggles, is to him the most precious accession of fortune.\n\nEven where the friendship of particular men is out of the question, the\nsociety, being occupied in forming a party that may defend itself, or annoy\nits enemy, finds no object of greater moment than the increase of its\nnumbers. Captives who may be adopted, or children of either sex who may be\nreared for the public, are accordingly considered as the richest spoil of\nan enemy. The practice of the Romans in admitting the vanquished to share\nin the privileges of their city, the rape of the Sabines, and the\nsubsequent coalition with that people, were not singular or uncommon\nexamples in the history of mankind. The same policy has been followed, and\nwas natural and obvious wherever the strength of a state consisted in the\narms of a few, and where men were valued in themselves, without regard to\nestate or fortune.\n\nIn rude ages, therefore, while mankind subsist in small divisions, it\nshould appear, that if the earth be thinly peopled, this defect does not\narise from the negligence of those who ought to repair it. It is even\nprobable, that the most effectual course that could be taken to increase\nthe species, would be, to prevent the coalition of nations, and to oblige\nmankind to act in such small bodies as would make the preservation of their\nnumbers a principal object of their care. This alone, it is true, would not\nbe sufficient; we must probably add the encouragement for rearing families,\nwhich mankind enjoy under a favourable policy, and the means of subsistence\nwhich they owe to the practice of arts.\n\nThe mother is unwilling to increase her offspring, and is ill provided to\nrear them, where she herself is obliged to undergo great hardships in the\nsearch of her food. In North America, we are told, that she joins to the\nreserves of a cold or a moderate temperament, the abstinencies to which she\nsubmits, from the consideration of this difficulty. In her apprehension, it\nis matter of prudence, and of conscience, to bring one child to the\ncondition of feeding on venison, and of following on foot, before she will\nhazard a new burden in travelling the woods.\n\nIn warmer latitudes, by the different temperament, perhaps, which the\nclimate bestows, and by a greater facility in procuring subsistence, the\nnumbers of mankind increase, while the object itself is neglected; and the\ncommerce of the sexes, without any concern for population, is made a\nsubject of mere debauch. In some places, we are told, it is even made the\nobject of a barbarous policy, to defeat or to restrain the intentions of\nnature. In the island of Formosa, the males are prohibited to marry before\nthe age of forty; and females, if pregnant before the age of thirty six,\nhave an abortion procured by order of the magistrate, who employs a\nviolence that endangers the life of the mother, together with that of the\nchild. [Footnote: Collection of Dutch Voyages.]\n\nIn China the permission given to parents to kill or to expose their\nchildren, was probably meant as a relief from the burden of a numerous\noffspring. But notwithstanding what we hear of a practice so repugnant\nto the human heart, it has not, probably, the effects in restraining\npopulation; which it seems to threaten; but, like many other\ninstitutions, has an influence the reverse of what it seemed to portend.\nThe parents marry with this means of relief in their view, and the\nchildren are saved.\n\nHowever important the object of population may be held by mankind, it will\nbe difficult to find, in the history of civil policy, any wise or effectual\nestablishments, solely calculated to obtain it. The practice of rude or\nfeeble nations is inadequate, or cannot surmount the obstacles which are\nfound in their manner of life. The growth of industry, the endeavours of\nmen to improve their arts, to extend their commerce, to secure their\npossessions, and to establish their rights, are indeed the most effectual\nmeans to promote population: but they arise from a different motive; they\narise from regards to interest and personal safety. They are intended for\nthe benefit of those who exist, not to procure the increase of their\nnumbers.\n\nIt is, in the mean time, of importance to know, that where a people are\nfortunate in their political establishments, and successful in the pursuits\nof industry, their population is likely to grow in proportion. Most of the\nother devices thought of for this purpose, only serve to frustrate the\nexpectations of mankind or to mislead their attention.\n\nIn planting a colony, in striving to repair the occasional wastes of\npestilence or war, the immediate contrivance of statesmen may be useful;\nbut if, in reasoning on the increase of mankind in general, we overlook\ntheir freedom and their happiness, our aids to population become weak and\nineffectual. They only lead us to work on the surface, or to pursue a\nshadow, while we neglect the substantial concern; and in a decaying state,\nmake us tamper with palliatives, while the roots of an evil are suffered to\nremain. Octavius revived or enforced the laws that related to population at\nRome; but it may be said of him, and of many sovereigns in a similar\nsituation, that they administer the poison, while they are devising the\nremedy; and bring a damp and a palsy on the principles of life, while they\nendeavour, by external applications to the skin; to restore the bloom of a\ndecayed and sickly body.\n\nIt is indeed happy for mankind, that this important object is not always\ndependent on the wisdom of sovereigns, or the policy of single men. A\npeople intent on freedom, find for themselves a condition in which they may\nfollow the propensities of nature with a more signal effect, than any which\nthe councils of state could devise. When sovereigns, or projectors, are the\nsupposed masters of this subject, the best they can do, is to be cautious\nof hurting an interest they cannot greatly promote, and of making breaches\nthey cannot repair.\n\n\"When nations were divided into small territories, and petty commonwealths,\nwhere each man had his house and his field to himself, and each county had\nits capital free and independent; what a happy situation for mankind,\" says\nMr. Hume; \"how favourable to industry and agriculture, to marriage and to\npopulation!\" Yet here were, probably no schemes of the statesman, for\nrewarding the married, or for punishing the single; for inviting foreigners\nto settle, or for prohibiting the departure of natives. Every citizen\nfinding a possession secure, and a provision for his heirs, was not\ndiscouraged by the gloomy fears of oppression or want; and where every\nother function of nature was free, that which furnished the nursery could\nnot be restrained. Nature has required the powerful to be just; but she has\nnot otherwise intrusted the preservation of her works to their visionary\nplans. What fuel can the statesman add to the fires of youth? Let him only\nnot smother it, and the effect is secure. Where we oppress or degrade\nmankind with one hand, it is vain, like Octavius, to hold out in the other,\nthe baits of marriage, or the whip to barrenness. It is vain to invite new\ninhabitants from abroad, while those we already possess are made to hold\ntheir tenure with uncertainty; and to tremble, not only under the prospect\nof a numerous family, but even under that of a precarious and doubtful\nsubsistence for themselves. The arbitrary sovereign who has made this the\ncondition of his subjects, owes the remains of his people to the powerful\ninstincts of nature, not to any device of his own.\n\nMen will crowd where the situation is tempting, and, in a few generations,\nwill people every country to the measure of its means of subsistence. They\nwill even increase under circumstances that portend a decay. The frequent\nwars of the Romans, and of many a thriving community; even the pestilence,\nand the market for slaves, find their supply, if, without destroying the\nsource, the drain become regular; and if an issue is made for the\noffspring, without unsettling the families from which they arise. Where a\nhappier provision is made for mankind, the statesman, who by premiums to\nmarriage, by allurements to foreigners, or by confining the natives at\nhome, apprehends, that he has made the numbers of his people to grow, is\noften like the fly in the fable, who admired its success in turning the\nwheel, and in moving the carriage: he has only accompanied what was already\nin motion; he has dashed with his oar, to hasten the cataract; and waved\nwith his fan, to give speed to the winds.\n\nProjects of mighty settlement, and of sudden population, however successful\nin the end, are always expensive to mankind. Above a hundred thousand\npeasants, we are told, were yearly driven, like so many cattle, to\nPetersburgh, in the first attempts to replenish that settlement, and yearly\nperished for want of subsistence. [Footnote: Strachlenberg.] The Indian\nonly attempts to settle in the neighbourhood of the plantain, [Footnote:\nDampier.] and while his family increases, he adds a tree to the walk.\n\nIf the plantain, the cocoa, or the palm, were sufficient to maintain an\ninhabitant, the race of men in the warmer climates might become as numerous\nas the trees of the forest. But in many, parts of the earth, from the\nnature of the climate, and the soil, the spontaneous produce being next to\nnothing, the means of subsistence are the fruits only of labour and skill.\nIf a people, while they retain their frugality, increase their industry,\nand improve their arts, their numbers must grow in proportion. Hence it is,\nthat the cultivated fields of Europe are more peopled than the wilds of\nAmerica, or the plains of Tartary.\n\nBut even the increase of mankind which attends the accumulation of wealth,\nhas its limits. The _necessary of life_ is a vague and a relative\nterm: it is one thing in the opinion of the savage; another in that of the\npolished citizen: it has a reference to the fancy, and to the habits of\nliving. While arts improve, and riches increase; while the possessions of\nindividuals, or their prospects of gain, come up to their opinion of what\nis required to settle a family, they enter on its cares with alacrity. But\nwhen the possession, however redundant, falls short of the standard, and a\nfortune supposed sufficient for marriage is attained with difficulty,\npopulation is checked, or begins to decline. The citizen, in his own\napprehension, returns to the state of the savage; his children, he thinks,\nmust perish for want; and he quits a scene overflowing with plenty, because\nhe has not the fortune which his supposed rank, or his wishes, require. No\nultimate remedy is applied to this evil, by merely accumulating wealth; for\nrare and costly materials, whatever these are, continue to be sought; and\nif silks and pearl are made common, men will begin to covet some new\ndecorations, which the wealthy alone can procure. If they are indulged in\ntheir humour, their demands are repeated; for it is the continual increase\nof riches, not any measure attained, that keeps the craving imagination at\nease.\n\nMen are tempted to labour, and to practise lucrative arts, by motives of\ninterest. Secure to the workman the fruit of his labour, give him the\nprospects of independence or freedom, the public has found a faithful\nminister in the acquisition of wealth, and a faithful steward in hoarding\nwhat he has gained. The statesman, in this, as in the case of population\nitself, can do little more than avoid doing mischief. It is well, if, in\nthe beginnings of commerce, he knows how to repress the frauds to which it\nis subject. Commerce, if continued, is the branch in which men, committed\nto the effects of their own experience, are least apt to go wrong.\n\nThe trader, in rude ages, is short sighted, fraudulent and mercenary; but\nin the progress and advanced state of his art, his views are enlarged, his\nmaxims are established: he becomes punctual, liberal, faithful, and\nenterprising; and in the period of general corruption, he alone has every\nvirtue, except the force to defend his acquisitions. He needs no aid from\nthe state, but its protection; and is often in himself its most intelligent\nand respectable member. Even in China, we are informed, where pilfering,\nfraud, and corruption, are the reigning practice with all the other orders\nof men, the great merchant is ready to give, and to procure confidence:\nwhile his countrymen act on the plans, and under the restrictions, of a\npolice adjusted to knaves, he acts on the reasons of trade, and the maxims\nof mankind.\n\nIf population be connected with national wealth, liberty and personal\nsecurity is the great foundation of both: and if this foundation be laid in\nthe state, nature has secured the increase and industry of its members; the\none by desires the most ardent in the human frame, the other by a\nconsideration the most uniform and constant of any that possesses the mind.\nThe great object of policy, therefore, with respect to both, is, to secure\nto the family its means of subsistence and settlement; to protect the\nindustrious in the pursuit of his occupation; to reconcile the restrictions\nof police, and the social affections of mankind, with their separate and\ninterested pursuits.\n\nIn matters of particular profession, industry, and trade, the experienced\npractitioner is the master, and every general reasoner is a novice. The\nobject in commerce is to make the individual rich; the more he gains for\nhimself, the more he augments the wealth of his country. If a protection be\nrequired, it must be granted; if crimes and frauds be committed, they must\nbe repressed; and government can pretend to no more. When the refined\npolitician would lend an active hand, he only multiplies interruptions and\ngrounds of complaint; when the merchant forgets his own interest to lay\nplans for his country, the period of vision and chimera is near, and the\nsolid basis of commerce withdrawn. He might be told, that while he pursues\nhis advantage, and gives no cause of complaint, the interest of commerce is\nsafe.\n\nThe general police of France, proceeding on a supposition, that the\nexportation of corn must drain the country where it has grown, had, till of\nlate, laid that branch of commerce under a severe prohibition. The English\nlandholder and the farmer had credit enough to obtain a premium for\nexportation, to favour the sale of their commodity; and the event has\nshown, that private interest is a better patron of commerce and plenty,\nthan the refinements of state. One nation lays the refined plan of a\nsettlement on the continent of North America, and trusts little to the\nconduct of traders and shortsighted men: another leaves men to find their\nown position in a state of freedom, and to think for themselves. The active\nindustry and the limited views of the one, made a thriving settlement; the\ngreat projects of the other were still in idea.\n\nBut I willingly quit a subject in which I am not much conversant, and still\nless engaged by the object for which I write. Speculations on commerce and\nwealth have been delivered by the ablest writers; and the public will\nprobably soon be furnished with a theory of national economy, equal to what\nhas ever appeared on any subject of science whatever. [Footnote: Mr. Smith,\nauthor of the Theory of Moral Sentiment] But in the view which I have taken\nof human affairs, nothing seems more important than the general caution\nwhich the authors to whom I refer so well understand, not to consider these\narticles as making the sum of national felicity, or the principal object of\nany state. In science we consider our objects apart; in practice it were an\nerror not to have them all in our view at once.\n\nOne nation, in search of gold and of precious metals, neglect the domestic\nsources of wealth; and become dependent on their neighbours for the\nnecessaries of life: another so intent on improving their internal\nresources, and on increasing their commerce, that they become dependent on\nforeigners for the defence of what they acquire. It is even painful in\nconversation to find the interest of merchants give the tone to our\nreasonings, and to find a subject perpetually offered as the great business\nof national councils, to which any interposition of government is seldom,\nwith propriety, applied, or never, beyond the protection it affords.\n\nWe complain of a want of public spirit; but whatever may be the effect of\nthis error in practice, in speculation it is none of our faults: we reason\nperpetually for the public; but the want of national views were frequently\nbetter than the possession of those we express: we would have nations, like\na company of merchants, think of nothing but monopolies, and the profit of\ntrade, and, like them too, intrust their protection to a force which they\ndo not possess in themselves.\n\nBecause men, like other animals, are maintained in multitudes, where the\nnecessaries of life are amassed, and the store of wealth is enlarged, we\ndrop our regards for the happiness, the moral and political character of a\npeople; and, anxious for the herd we would propagate, carry our views no\nfarther than the stall and the pasture. We forget that the few have often\nmade a prey of the many; that to the poor there is nothing so enticing as\nthe coffers of the rich; and that when the price of freedom comes to be\npaid, the heavy sword of the victor may fall into the opposite scale.\n\nWhatever be the actual conduct of nations in this matter, it is certain,\nthat many of our arguments would hurry us, for the sake of wealth and of\npopulation, into a scene where mankind, being exposed to corruption, are\nunable to defend their possessions; and where they are, in the end, subject\nto oppression and ruin. We cut off the roots, while we would extend the\nbranches, and thicken the foliage.\n\nIt is possibly from an opinion that the virtues of men are secure, that\nsome, who turn their attention to public affairs, think of nothing but the\nnumbers and wealth of a people: it is from a dread of corruption, that\nothers think of nothing but how to preserve the national virtues. Human\nsociety has great obligations to both. They are opposed to one another only\nby mistake; and even when united, have not strength sufficient to combat\nthe wretched party, that refers every object to personal interest, and that\ncares not for the safety or increase of any stock but its own.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION V.\n\nOF NATIONAL DEFENCE AND CONQUEST.\n\n\nIt is impossible to ascertain how much of the policy of any state has a\nreference to war, or to national safety. \"Our legislator,\" says the Cretan\nin Plato, \"thought that nations were by nature in a state of hostility: he\ntook his measures accordingly; and observing that all the possessions of\nthe vanquished pertain to the victor, he held it ridiculous to propose any\nbenefit to his country, before he had provided that it should not be\nconquered.\"\n\nCrete, which is supposed to have been a model of military policy, is\ncommonly considered as the original from which the celebrated laws of\nLycurgus were copied. Mankind, it seems, in every instance, must have some\npalpable object to direct their proceedings, and must have a view to some\npoint of external utility, even in the choice of their virtues. The\ndiscipline of Sparta was military; and a sense of its use in the field,\nmore than the force of unwritten and traditionary laws, or the supposed\nengagement of the public faith obtained by the lawgiver, may have induced\nthis people to persevere in the observance of many rules, which to other\nnations do not appear necessary, except in the presence of an enemy.\n\nEvery institution of this singular people gave a lesson of obedience, of\nfortitude, and of zeal for the public: but it is remarkable that they chose\nto obtain, by their virtues alone, what other nations are fain to buy with\ntheir treasure; and it is well known, that, in the course of their history,\nthey came to regard their discipline merely on account of its moral\neffects. They had experienced the happiness of a mind courageous,\ndisinterested, and devoted to its best affections; and they studied to\npreserve this character in themselves, by resigning the interests of\nambition, and the hopes of military glory, even by sacrificing the numbers\nof their people.\n\nIt was the fate of Spartans who escaped from the field, not of those who\nperished with Cleombrotus at Leuctra, that filled the cottages of Lacedemon\nwith mourning and serious reflection: [Footnote: Xenophon.] it was the fear\nof having their citizens corrupted abroad, by intercourse with servile and\nmercenary men, that made them quit the station of leaders in the Persian\nwar, and leave Athens, during fifty years, to pursue, unrivalled, that\ncareer of ambition and profit, by which she made such acquisitions of power\nand of wealth. [Footnote: Thucydides, Book I.]\n\nWe have had occasion to observe, that in every rude state the great\nbusiness is war; and that in barbarous times, mankind being generally\ndivided into small parties, are engaged in almost perpetual hostilities.\nThis circumstance gives the military leader a continued ascendant in his\ncountry, and inclines every people, during warlike ages, to monarchical\ngovernment.\n\nThe conduct of an army can least of all subjects be divided: and we may be\njustly surprised to find that the Romans, after many ages of military\nexperience, and after having recently felt the arms of Hannibal in many\nencounters, associated two leaders at the head of the same army, and left\nthem to adjust their pretensions, by taking the command, each a day in his\nturn. The same people, however, on other occasions, thought it expedient to\nsuspend the exercise of every subordinate magistracy, and in the time of\ngreat alarms, to intrust all the authority of the state in the hands of one\nperson.\n\nRepublics have generally found it necessary, in the conduct of war, to\nplace great confidence in the executive branch of their government. When a\nconsul at Rome had proclaimed his levies, and administered the military\noath, he became from that moment master of the public treasury, and of the\nlives of those who were under his command. [Footnote: Polybius.] The axe\nand the rods were no longer a mere badge of magistracy, or an empty\npageant, in the hands of the lictor; they were, at the command of the\nfather, stained with the blood of his own children; and fell, without\nappeal, on the mutinous and disobedient of every condition.\n\nIn every free state, there is a perpetual necessity to distinguish the\nmaxims of martial law from those of the civil; and he who has not learned\nto give an implicit obedience, where the state has given him a military\nleader, and to resign his personal freedom in the field, from the same\nmagnanimity with which he maintains it in the political deliberations of\nhis country, has yet to learn the most important lesson of civil society,\nand is only fit to occupy a place in a rude, or in a corrupted state, where\nthe principles of mutiny and of servility being joined, the one or the\nother is frequently adopted in the wrong place.\n\nFrom a regard to what is necessary in war, nations inclined to popular or\naristocratical government, have had recourse to establishments that\nbordered on monarchy. Even where the highest office of the state was in\ncommon times administered by a plurality of persons, the whole power and\nauthority belonging to it was, on particular occasions, committed to one;\nand upon great alarms, when the political fabric was shaken or endangered,\na monarchical power has been applied, like a prop, to secure the state\nagainst the rage of the tempest. Thus were the dictators occasionally named\nat Rome, and the stadtholders in the United Provinces; and thus, in mixed\ngovernments, the royal prerogative is occasionally enlarged, by the\ntemporary suspension of laws, [Footnote: In Britain, by the suspension of\nthe _Habeas Corpus_.] and the barriers of liberty appear to be\nremoved, in order to vest a dictatorial power in the hands of the king.\n\nHad mankind, therefore, no view but to warfare, it is probable that they\nwould continue to prefer monarchical government to any other; or at least\nthat every nation, in order to procure secret and united councils, would\nintrust the executive power with unlimited authority. But happily for civil\nsociety, men have objects of a different sort: and experience has taught,\nthat although the conduct of armies requires an absolute and undivided\ncommand; yet a national force is best formed, where numbers of men are\ninured to equality; and where the meanest citizen may consider himself,\nupon occasion, as destined to command as well as to obey. It is here that\nthe dictator finds a spirit and a force prepared to second his councils; it\nis here too that the dictator himself is formed, and that numbers of\nleaders are presented to the public choice; it is here that the prosperity\nof a state is independent of single men, and that a wisdom which never\ndies, with a system of military arrangements permanent and regular, can,\neven under the greatest misfortunes, prolong the national struggle. With\nthis advantage the Romans, finding a number of distinguished leaders arise\nin succession, were at all times almost equally prepared to contend with\ntheir enemies of Asia or Africa; while the fortune of those enemies, on the\ncontrary, depended on the casual appearance of singular men, of a\nMithridates, or of a Hannibal.\n\nThe soldier, we are told, has his point of honour, and a fashion of\nthinking, which he wears with his sword. This point of honour, in free and\nuncorrupted states, is a zeal for the public; and war to them is an\noperation of passions, not the mere pursuit of a calling. Its good and its\nill effects are felt in extremes: the friend is made to experience the\nwarmest proofs of attachment, the enemy the severest effects of animosity.\nOn this system the celebrated nations of antiquity made war under their\nhighest attainments of civility, and under their greatest degrees of\nrefinement.\n\nIn small and rude societies, the individual finds himself attacked in every\nnational war; and none can propose to devolve his defence on another. \"The\nking of Spain is a great prince,\" said an American chief to the governor of\nJamaica, who was preparing a body of troops to join in an enterprise\nagainst the Spaniards: \"Do you propose to make war upon so great a king\nwith so small a force?\" Being told that the forces he saw were to be joined\nby troops from Europe, and that the governor could then command no more:\n\"Who are these then,\" said the American, \"who form this crowd of\nspectators? Are they not your people? And why do you not all go forth to so\ngreat a war?\" He was answered, that the spectators were merchants, and\nother inhabitants, who took no part in the service: \"Would they be\nmerchants still,\" continued this statesman, \"if the king of Spain, was to\nattack you here? For my part, I do not think that merchants should be\npermitted to live in any country: when I go to war, I leave nobody at home\nbut the women.\" It should seem that this simple warrior considered\nmerchants as a kind of neutral persons, who took no part in the quarrels of\ntheir country; and that he did not know how much war itself may be made a\nsubject of traffic; what mighty armies may be put in motion from behind the\ncounter; how often human blood is, without any national animosity, bought\nand sold for bills of exchange; and how often the prince, the nobles, and\nthe statesmen, in many a polished nation, might, in his account, be\nconsidered as merchants.\n\nIn the progress of arts and of policy, the members of every state are\ndivided into classes; and in the commencement of this distribution, there\nis no distinction more serious than that of the warrior and the pacific\ninhabitant; no more is required to place men in the relation of master and\nslave. Even when the rigours of an established slavery abate, as they have\ndone in modern Europe, in consequence of a protection, and a property,\nallowed to the mechanic and labourer, this distinction serves still to\nseparate the noble from the base, and to point out that class of men who\nare destined to reign and to domineer in their country.\n\nIt was certainty never foreseen by mankind, that, in the pursuit of\nrefinement, they were to reverse this order; or even that they were to\nplace the government, and the military force of nations, in different\nhands. But is it equally unforeseen, that the former order may again take\nplace? And that the pacific citizen, however distinguished by privilege and\nrank, must one day bow to the person with whom he has intrusted his sword?\nIf such revolutions should actually follow, will this new master revive in\nhis own order the spirit of the noble and the free? Will he renew the\ncharacters of the warrior and the statesman? Will he restore to his country\nthe civil and military virtues? I am afraid to reply. Montesquieu observes,\nthat the government of Rome, even under the emperors, became, in the hands\nof the troops, elective and republican: but the Fabii or the Bruti were\nheard of no more after the praetorian bands became the republic.\n\nWe have enumerated some of the heads under which a people, as they emerge\nfrom barbarity, may come to be classed. Such are, the nobility, the people,\nthe adherents of the prince; and even the priesthood have not been\nforgotten; when we arrive at times of refinement, the army must be joined\nto the list. The departments of civil government and of war being severed,\nand the pre-eminence being given to the statesman, the ambitious will\nnaturally devolve the military service on those who are contented with a\nsubordinate station. They who have the greatest share in the division of\nfortune, and the greatest interest in defending their country, having\nresigned the sword, must pay for what they have ceased to perform; and\narmies, not only at a distance from home, but in the very bosom of their\ncountry, are subsisted by pay. A discipline is invented to inure the\nsoldier to perform, from habit, and from the fear of punishment, those\nhazardous duties, which the love of the public, or a national spirit, no\nlonger inspire.\n\nWhen we consider the breach that such an establishment makes in the system\nof national virtues, it is unpleasant to observe, that most nations who\nhave run the career of civil arts, have, in some degree, adopted this\nmeasure. Not only states, which either have wars to maintain, or precarious\npossessions to defend at a distance; not only a prince jealous of his\nauthority, or in haste to gain the advantage of discipline, are disposed to\nemploy foreign troops, or to keep standing armies; but even republics, with\nlittle of the former occasion, and none of the motives which prevail in\nmonarchy, have been found to tread in the same path. If military\narrangements occupy so considerable a place in the domestic policy of\nnations, the actual consequences of war are equally important in the\nhistory of mankind. Glory and spoil were the earliest subject of quarrels:\na concession of superiority, or a ransom, were the prices of peace. The\nlove of safety, and the desire of dominion, equally lead mankind to wish\nfor accessions of strength. Whether as victors or as vanquished, they tend\nto a coalition; and powerful nations considering a province, or a fortress\nacquired on their frontier, as so much gained, are perpetually intent on\nextending their limits.\n\nThe maxims of conquest are not always to be distinguished from those of\nself defence. If a neighbouring state be dangerous, if it be frequently\ntroublesome, it is a maxim founded in the consideration of safety, as well\nas of conquest, that it ought to be weakened or disarmed: if, being once\nreduced, it be disposed to renew the contest, it must from thenceforward be\ngoverned in form. Rome never avowed any other maxims of conquest; and she\nevery where sent her insolent armies under the specious pretence of\nprocuring to herself and her allies a lasting peace, which she alone would\nreserve the power to disturb.\n\nThe equality of those alliances which the Grecian states formed against\neach other, maintained, for a time, their independence and separation; and\nthat time was the shining and the happy period of their story. It was\nprolonged more by the vigilance and conduct which they severally applied,\nthan by the moderation of their councils, or by any peculiarities of\ndomestic policy which arrested their progress. The victors were sometimes\ncontented, with merely changing to a resemblance of their own forms, the\ngovernment of the states they subdued. What the next step might have been\nin the progress of impositions, is hard to determine. But when we consider,\nthat one party fought for the imposition of tributes, another for the\nascendant in war, it cannot be doubted, that the Athenians, from a national\nambition, and from the desire of wealth; and the Spartans, though they\noriginally only meant to defend themselves, and their allies, were both, at\nlast, equally willing to become the masters of Greece; and were preparing\nfor each other at home that yoke, which both, together with their\nconfederates, were obliged to receive from abroad.\n\nIn the conquests of Philip, the desire of self-preservation and security\nseemed to be blended with the ambition natural to princes. He turned his\narms successively to the quarters on which he found himself hurt, from\nwhich he had been alarmed or provoked; and when he had subdued the Greeks,\nhe proposed to lead them against their ancient enemy of Persia. In this he\nlaid the plan which was carried into execution by his son.\n\nThe Romans, become the masters of Italy, and the conquerors of Carthage,\nhad been alarmed on the side of Macedon, and were led to cross a new sea in\nsearch of a new field, on which to exercise their military force. In\nprosecution of their wars, from the earliest to the latest date of their\nhistory, without intending the very conquest they made, perhaps without\nforeseeing what advantage they were to reap from the subjection of distant\nprovinces, or in what manner they were to govern their new acquisitions,\nthey still proceeded to seize what came successively within their reach;\nand, stimulated by a policy which engaged them in perpetual wars, which led\nto perpetual victory and accessions of territory, they extended the\nfrontier of a state, which, but a few centuries before, had been confined\nwithin the skirts of a village, to the Euphrates, the Danube, the Weser,\nthe Forth, and the Ocean.\n\nIt is vain to affirm that the genius of any nation is adverse to conquest.\nIts real interests indeed most commonly are so; but every state, which is\nprepared to defend itself, and to obtain victories, is likewise in hazard\nof being tempted to conquer.\n\nIn Europe, where mercenary and disciplined armies are everywhere formed,\nand ready to traverse the earth, where, like a flood pent up by slender\nbanks, they are only restrained by political forms, or a temporary balance\nof power; if the sluices should break, what inundations may we not expect\nto behold? Effeminate kingdoms and empires are spread from the sea of Corea\nto the Atlantic ocean. Every state, by the defeat of its troops, may be\nturned into a province; every army opposed in the field today may be hired\nto-morrow; and every victory gained, may give the accession of a new\nmilitary force to the victor.\n\nThe Romans, with inferior arts of communication by sea and land, maintained\ntheir dominion in a considerable part of Europe, Asia, and Africa, over\nfierce and intractable nations: what may not the fleets and armies of\nEurope, with the access they have by commerce to every part of the world,\nand the facility of their conveyance, effect, if that ruinous maxim should\nprevail, that the grandeur of a nation is to be estimated from the extent\nof its territory; or, that the interest of any particular people consists\nin reducing their neighbours to servitude?\n\n\n\n\nSECTION VI\n\nOF CIVIL LIBERTY\n\n\nIf war, either for depredation or defence, were the principal object of\nnations, every tribe would, from its earliest state, aim at the condition\nof a Tartar horde; and in all its successes would hasten to the grandeur of\na Tartar empire. The military leader would supersede the civil magistrate;\nand preparations to fly with all their possessions, or to pursue with all\ntheir forces, would in every society make the sum of their public\narrangements.\n\nHe who first, on the banks of the Wolga, or the Jenisca, had taught the\nScythian to mount the horse, to move his cottage on wheels, to harass his\nenemy alike by his attacks and his flights, to handle at full speed the\nlance and the bow, and when beat from his ground, to leave his arrows in\nthe wind to meet his pursuer; he who had taught his countrymen to use the\nsame animal for every purpose of the dairy, the shambles, and the field of\nbattle; would be esteemed the founder of his nation; or like Ceres and\nBacchus among the Greeks, would be invested with the honours of a god, as\nthe reward of his useful inventions. Amidst such institutions, the names\nand achievements of Hercules and Jason might have been transmitted to\nposterity; but those of Lycurgus or Solon, the heroes of political society,\ncould have gained no reputation, either fabulous or real, in the records of\nfame.\n\nEvery tribe of warlike barbarians may entertain among themselves the\nstrongest sentiments of affection and honour, while they carry to the rest\nof mankind the aspect of banditti and robbers. [Footnote: D'Arvieux's\nHistory of the Arabs.] They may be indifferent to interest, and superior to\ndanger; but our sense of humanity, our regard to the rights of nations, our\nadmiration of civil wisdom and justice, even our effeminacy itself, make us\nturn away with contempt, or with horror, from a scene which exhibits so few\nof our good qualities, and which serves so much to reproach our weakness.\n\nIt is in conducting the affairs of civil society, that mankind find the\nexercise of their best talents, as well as the object of their best\naffections. It is in being grafted on the advantages of civil society, that\nthe art of war is brought to perfection; that the resources of armies, and\nthe complicated springs to be touched in their conduct, are best\nunderstood. The most celebrated warriors were also citizens: opposed to a\nRoman, or a Greek, the chieftain of Thrace, of Germany, or Gaul, was a\nnovice. The native of Pella learned the principles of his art from\nEpaminondas and Pelopidas.\n\nIf nations, as hath been observed in the preceding section, must adjust\ntheir policy on the prospect of war from abroad, they are equally bound to\nprovide for the attainment of peace at home. But there is no peace in the\nabsence of justice. It may subsist with divisions, disputes, and contrary\nopinions; but not with the commission of wrongs. The injurious, and the\ninjured, are, as implied in the very meaning of the terms, in a state of\nhostility.\n\nWhere men enjoy peace, they owe it either to their mutual regards and\naffections, or to the restraints of law. Those are the happiest states\nwhich procure peace to their members by the first of these methods: but it\nis sufficiently uncommon to procure it even by the second. The first would\nwithhold the occasions of war and of competition; the second adjusts the\npretensions of men by stipulations and treaties. Sparta taught her citizens\nnot to regard interest: other free nations secure the interest of their\nmembers, and consider this as a principal part of their rights.\n\nLaw is the treaty to which members of the same community have agreed, and\nunder which the magistrate and the subject continue to enjoy their rights,\nand to maintain the peace of society. The desire of lucre is the great\nmotive to injuries: law therefore has a principal reference to property. It\nwould ascertain the different methods by which property may be acquired, as\nby prescription, conveyance, and succession; and it makes the necessary\nprovisions for rendering the possession of property secure.\n\nBeside avarice, there are other motives from which men are unjust; such as\npride, malice, envy, and revenge. The law would eradicate the principles\nthemselves, or at least prevent their effects.\n\nFrom whatever motive wrongs are committed, there are different particulars\nin which the injured may suffer. He may suffer in his goods, in his person,\nor in the freedom of his conduct. Nature has made him master of every\naction which is not injurious to others. The laws of his particular society\nentitle him perhaps to a determinate station, and bestow on, him a certain\nshare in the government of his country. An injury, therefore, which in this\nrespect puts him under any unjust restraint, may be called an infringement\nof his political rights.\n\nWhere the citizen is supposed to have rights of property and of station,\nand is protected in the exercise of them, he is said to be free; and the\nvery restraints by which he is hindered from the commission of crimes, are\na part of his liberty. No person is free, where any person is suffered to\ndo wrong with impunity. Even the despotic prince on his throne, is not an\nexception to this general rule. He himself is a slave, the moment he\npretends that force should decide any contest. The disregard he throws on\nthe rights of his people recoils on himself; and in the general uncertainty\nof all conditions, there is no tenure more precarious than his own.\n\nFrom the different particulars to which men refer, in speaking of liberty,\nwhether to the safety of the person and the goods, the dignity of rank, or\nthe participation of political importance, as well as from the different\nmethods by which their rights are secured, they are led to differ in the\ninterpretation of the very term; and every free nation is apt to suppose,\nthat freedom is to be found only among themselves; they measure it by their\nown peculiar habits and system of manners.\n\nSome having thought, that the unequal distribution of wealth is a\ngrievance, required a new division of property as the foundation of public\njustice. This scheme is suited to democratical government; and in such only\nit has been admitted with any degree of effect.\n\nNew settlements, like that of the people of Israel, and singular\nestablishments, like those of Sparta and Crete, have furnished examples of\nits actual execution; but in most other states, even the democratical\nspirit could attain no more than to prolong the struggle for Agrarian laws;\nto procure, on occasion, the expunging of debts; and to keep the people in\nmind, under all the distinctions of fortune, that they still had a claim to\nequality.\n\nThe citizen at Rome, at Athens, and in many republics, contended for\nhimself, and his order. The Agrarian law was moved and debated for ages: it\nserved to awaken the mind; it nourished the spirit of equality, and\nfurnished a field on which to exert its force; but was never established\nwith any of its other and more formal effects.\n\nMany of the establishments which serve to defend the weak from oppression,\ncontribute, by securing the possession of property, to favour its unequal\ndivision, and to increase the ascendant of those from whom the abuses of\npower may be feared. Those abuses were felt very early both at Athens and\nRome. [Footnote: Plutarch in the Life of Solon. Livy.]\n\nIt has been proposed to prevent the excessive accumulation of wealth in\nparticular hands, by limiting the increase of private fortunes, by\nprohibiting entails, and by withholding the right of primogeniture in the\nsuccession of heirs. It has been proposed to prevent the ruin of moderate\nestates, and to restrain the use, and consequently the desire of great\nones, by sumptuary laws. These different methods are more or less\nconsistent with the interests of commerce, and may be adopted, in different\ndegrees, by a people whose national object is wealth: and they have their\ndegree of effect, by inspiring moderation, or a sense of equality, and by\nstifling the passions by which mankind are prompted to mutual wrongs.\n\nIt appears to be, in a particular manner, the object of sumptuary laws, and\nof the equal division of wealth, to prevent the gratification of vanity, to\ncheck the ostentation of superior fortune, and, by this means, to weaken\nthe desire of riches, and to preserve, in the breast of the citizen, that\nmoderation and equity which ought to regulate his conduct.\n\nThis end is never perfectly attained in any state where the unequal\ndivision of property is admitted, and where fortune is allowed to bestow\ndistinction and rank. It is indeed difficult, by any methods whatever, to\nshut up this source of corruption. Of all the nations whose history is\nknown with certainty, the design itself, and the manner of executing it,\nappear to have been understood in Sparta alone.\n\nThere property was indeed acknowledged by law; but in consequence of\ncertain regulations and practices, the most effectual, it seems, that\nmankind have hitherto found out. The manners that prevail among simple\nnations before the establishment of property, were in some measure\npreserved; [Footnote: See Part II. Sec. 2.] the passion for riches was,\nduring many ages, suppressed; and the citizen was made to consider himself\nas the property of his country, not as the owner of a private estate.\n\nIt was held ignominious either to buy or to sell the patrimony of a\ncitizen. Slaves were, in every family, intrusted with the care of its\neffects, and freemen were strangers to lucrative arts; justice was\nestablished on a contempt of the ordinary allurement to crimes; and the\npreservatives of civil liberty applied by the state, were the dispositions\nthat were made to prevail in the hearts of its members.\n\nThe individual was relieved from every solicitude that could arise on the\nhead of his fortune; he was educated, and he was employed for life in the\nservice of the public; he was fed at a place of common resort, to which he\ncould carry no distinction but that of his talents and his virtues; his\nchildren were the wards and the pupils of the state; he himself was thought\nto be a parent, and a director to the youth of his country, not the anxious\nfather of a separate family.\n\nThis people, we are told, bestowed some care in adorning their persons, and\nwere known from afar by the red or the purple they wore; but could not make\ntheir equipage, their buildings, or their furniture, a subject of fancy, or\nwhat we call taste. The carpenter and the housebuilder were restricted to\nthe use of the axe and the saw: their workmanship must have been simple,\nand probably, in respect to its form, continued for ages the same. The\ningenuity of the artist was employed in cultivating his own nature, not in\nadorning the habitations of his fellow citizens.\n\nOn this plan, they had senators, magistrates, leaders of armies, and\nministers of state; but no men of fortune. Like the heroes of Homer, they\ndistributed honours by the measure of the cup and the platter. A citizen\nwho, in his political capacity, was the arbiter of Greece, thought himself\nhonoured by receiving a double portion of plain entertainment at supper. He\nwas active, penetrating, brave, disinterested, and generous; but his\nestate, his table, and his furniture might, in our esteem, have marred the\nlustre of all his virtues. Neighbouring nations, however, applied for\ncommanders to this nursery of statesmen and warriors, as we apply for the\npractitioners of every art to the countries in which they excel; for cooks\nto France, and for musicians to Italy.\n\nAfter all, we are, perhaps, not sufficiently instructed in the nature of\nthe Spartan laws and institutions, to understand in what manner all the\nends of this singular state were obtained; but the admiration paid to its\npeople, and the constant reference of contemporary historians to their\navowed superiority, will not allow us to question the facts. \"When I\nobserved,\" says Xenophon, \"that this nation, though not the most populous,\nwas the most powerful state of Greece, I was seized with wonder, and with\nan earnest desire to know by what arts it attained its pre-eminence; but\nwhen I came to the knowledge of its institutions, my wonder ceased. As one\nman excels another, and as he who is at pains to cultivate his mind, must\nsurpass the person who neglects it; so the Spartans should excel every,\nnation, being the only state in which virtue is studied as the object of\ngovernment.\"\n\nThe subjects of property, considered with a view to subsistence, or even to\nenjoyment, have little effect in corrupting mankind, or in awakening the\nspirit of competition and of jealousy; but considered with a view to\ndistinction and honour, where fortune constitutes rank, they excite the\nmost vehement passions, and absorb all the sentiments of the human soul:\nthey reconcile avarice and meanness with ambition and vanity; and lead men\nthrough the practice of sordid and mercenary arts, to the possession of a\nsupposed elevation and dignity.\n\nWhere this source of corruption, on the contrary, is effectually stopped,\nthe citizen is dutiful, and the magistrate upright; any form of government\nmay be wisely, administered; places of trust are likely to be well\nsupplied; and by whatever rule office and power are bestowed, it is likely\nthat all the capacity and force that subsists in the state will come to be\nemployed in its service: for on this supposition, experience and abilities\nare the only guides, and the only titles to public confidence; and if\ncitizens be ranged into separate classes, they become mutual checks by the\ndifference of their opinions, not by the opposition of their interested\ndesigns.\n\nWe may easily account for the censures bestowed on the government of\nSparta, by those who considered it merely on the side of its forms. It was\nnot calculated to prevent the practice of crimes, by balancing against each\nother the selfish and partial dispositions of men; but to inspire the\nvirtues of the soul, to procure innocence by the absence of criminal\ninclinations, and to derive its internal peace from the indifference of its\nmembers to the ordinary motives of strife and disorder. It were trifling to\nseek for its analogy to any other constitution of state, in which its\nprincipal characteristic and distinguishing feature is not to be found.\nThe collegiate sovereignty, the senate, and the ephori, had their\ncounterparts in other republics, and a resemblance has been found in\nparticular to the government of Carthage: [Footnote: Aristotle.] but what\naffinity of consequence can be found between a state whose sole object was\nvirtue, and another whose principal object was wealth; between a people\nwhose associated kings, being lodged, in the same cottage, had no fortune\nbut their daily food; and a commercial republic, in which a proper estate\nwas required as a necessary qualification for the higher offices of state?\n\nOther petty commonwealths expelled kings, when they became jealous of their\ndesigns, or after having experienced their tyranny; here the hereditary\nsuccession of kings was preserved: other states were afraid of the\nintrigues and cabals of their members in competition for dignities; here\nsolicitation was required as the only condition upon which a place in the\nsenate was obtained. A supreme inquisitorial power was, in the persons of\nthe ephori, safely committed to a few men, who were drawn by lot, and\nwithout distinction, from every order of the people: and if a contrast to\nthis, as well as to many other articles of the Spartan policy, be required,\nit may be found in the general history of mankind.\n\nBut Sparta, under every supposed error of its form, prospered for ages, by\nthe integrity of its manners, and by the character of its citizens. When\nthat integrity was broken, this people did not languish in the weakness of\nnations sunk in effeminacy. They fell into the stream by which other states\nhad been carried in the torrent of violent passions, and in the outrage of\nbarbarous times. They ran the career of other nations, after that of\nancient Sparta was finished they built walls, and began to improve their\npossessions, after they ceased to improve their people; and on this new\nplan, in their struggle for political life, they survived the system of\nstates that perished under the Macedonian dominion: they lived to act with\nanother which arose in the Ach\u00e6an league; and were the last community of\nGreece that became a village in the empire of Rome.\n\nIf it should be thought we have dwelt too long on the history of this\nsingular people, it may be remembered, in excuse, that they alone, in the\nlanguage of Xenophon, made virtue an object of state.\n\nWe must be contented to derive our freedom from a different source: to\nexpect justice from the limits which are set to the powers of the\nmagistrate, and to rely for protection on the laws which are made to secure\nthe estate and the person of the subject. We live in societies, where men\nmust be rich, in order to be great; where pleasure itself is often pursued\nfrom vanity; where the desire of a supposed happiness serves to inflame the\nworst of passions, and is itself the foundation of misery; where public\njustice, like fetters applied to the body, may, without inspiring the\nsentiments of candour and equity, prevent the actual commission of crimes.\n\nMankind come under this description the moment they are seized with their\npassion for riches and power. But their description in every instance is\nmixed: in the best there is an alloy of evil; in the worst, a mixture of\ngood. Without any establishments to preserve their manners, besides penal\nlaws, and the restraints of police, they derive, from instinctive feelings,\na love of integrity and candour, and from the very contagion of society\nitself, an esteem for what is honourable and praiseworthy. They derive,\nfrom their union and joint opposition to foreign enemies, a zeal for their\nown community, and courage to maintain its rights. If the frequent neglect\nof virtue, as a political object, tend to discredit the understandings of\nmen, its lustre, and its frequency, as a spontaneous offspring of the\nheart, will restore the honours of our nature.\n\nIn every casual and mixed state of the national manners, the safety of\nevery individual, and his political consequence, depends much on himself,\nbut more on the party to which he is joined. For this reason, all who feel\na common interest, are apt to unite in parties; and, as far as that\ninterest requires, mutually support each other.\n\nWhere the citizens of any free community are of different orders, each\norder has a peculiar set of claims and pretensions: relatively to the other\nmembers of the state, it is a party; relatively to the differences of\ninterest among its own members, it may admit of numberless subdivisions.\nBut in every state there are two interests very readily apprehended; that\nof a prince and his adherents, that of a nobility, or of any temporary\nfaction, opposed to the people.\n\nWhere the sovereign power is reserved by the collected body, it appears\nunnecessary to think of additional establishments for securing the rights\nof the citizen. But it is difficult, if not impossible, for the collective\nbody to exercise this power in a manner that supersedes the necessity of\nevery other political caution.\n\nIf popular assemblies assume every function of government; and if, in the\nsame tumultuous manner in which they can, with great propriety, express\ntheir feelings, the sense of their rights, and their animosity to foreign\nor domestic enemies, they pretend to deliberate on points of national\nconduct, or to decide questions of equity and justice; the public is\nexposed to manifold inconveniencies; and popular governments would, of all\nothers, be the most subject to errors in administration, and to weakness in\nthe execution of public measures.\n\nTo avoid these disadvantages, the people are always contented to delegate\npart of their power. They establish a senate to debate, and to prepare, if\nnot to determine, questions that are brought to the collective body for a\nfinal resolution. They commit the executive power to some council of this\nsort, or to a magistrate who presides in their meetings. Under the use of\nthis necessary and common expedient, even while democratical forms are most\ncarefully guarded, there is one party of the few, another of the many. One\nattacks, the other defends; and they are both ready to assume in their\nturns. But though, in reality, a great danger to liberty arises on the part\nof the people themselves, who, in times of corruption, are easily made the\ninstruments of usurpation and tyranny; yet, in the ordinary aspect of\ngovernment, the executive carries an air of superiority, and the rights of\nthe people seem always exposed to encroachment.\n\nThough, on the day that the Roman people were assembled, the senators mixed\nwith the crowd, and the consul was no more than the servant of the\nmultitude; yet, when this awful meeting was dissolved, the senators met to\nprescribe business for their sovereign, and the consul went armed with the\naxe and the rods, to teach every Roman, in his separate capacity, the\nsubmission which he owed to the state.\n\nThus, even where the collective body is sovereign, they are assembled only\noccasionally; and though, on such occasions, they determine every question\nrelative to their rights and their interests as a people, and can assert\ntheir freedom with irresistible force; yet they do not think themselves,\nnor are they in reality, safe, without a more constant and more uniform\npower operating in their favour.\n\nThe multitude is every where strong; but requires, for the safety of its\nmembers, when separate as well as when assembled, a head to direct and to\nemploy its strength. For this purpose, the ephori, we are told, were\nestablished at Sparta, the council of a hundred at Carthage, and the\ntribunes at Rome. So prepared, the popular party has, in many instances,\nbeen able to cope with its adversaries, and has even trampled on the\npowers, whether aristocratical or monarchical, with which it would have\nbeen otherwise unable to contend. The state, in such cases, commonly\nsuffered by the delays, interruptions, and confusions, which popular\nleaders, from private envy, or a prevailing jealousy of the great, seldom\nfailed to create in the proceedings of government.\n\nWhere the people, as in some larger communities, have only a share in the\nlegislature, they cannot overwhelm the collateral powers, who having\nlikewise a share, are in condition to defend themselves: where they act\nonly by their representatives, their force may be uniformly employed. And\nthey may make a part in a constitution of government more lasting than any\nof those in which the people, possessing or pretending to the entire\nlegislature, are, when assembled, the tyrants, and, when dispersed, the\nslaves of a distempered state. In governments properly mixed, the popular\ninterest, finding a counterpoise in that of the prince or of the nobles, a\nbalance is actually established between them, in which the public freedom\nand the public order are made to consist.\n\nFrom some such casual arrangement of different interests, all the varieties\nof mixed government proceed; and on that degree of consideration which\nevery separate interest can procure to itself, depends the equity of the\nlaws they enact, and the necessity they are able to impose, of adhering\nstrictly to the terms of law in its execution. States are accordingly\nunequally qualified to conduct the business of legislation, and unequally\nfortunate in the completeness, and regular observance, of their civil code.\n\nIn democratical establishments, citizens, feeling themselves possessed of\nthe sovereignty, are not equally anxious, with the subjects of other\ngovernments, to have their rights explained, or secured, by actual statute.\nThey trust to personal vigour, to the support of party, and to the sense of\nthe public.\n\nIf the collective body perform the office of judge, as well as of\nlegislator, they seldom think of devising rules for their own direction,\nand are found still more seldom to follow any determinate rule, after it is\nmade. They dispense, at one time, with what they enacted at another; and in\ntheir judicative, perhaps even more than in their legislative, capacity,\nare guided by passions and partialities that arise from circumstances of\nthe case before them.\n\nBut under the simplest governments of a different sort, whether aristocracy\nor monarchy, there is a necessity for law, and there are a variety of\ninterests to be adjusted in framing every statute. The sovereign wishes to\ngive stability and order to administration, by express and promulgated\nrules. The subject wishes to know the conditions and limits of his duty. He\nacquiesces or he revolts, according as the terms on which he is made to\nlive with the sovereign, or with his fellow subjects, are, or are not,\nconsistent with the sense of his rights.\n\nNeither the monarch, nor the council of nobles, where either is possessed\nof the sovereignty, can pretend to govern, or to judge at discretion. No\nmagistrate, whether temporary or hereditary, can with safety neglect that\nreputation for justice and equity, from which his authority, and the\nrespect that is paid to his person, are in a great measure derived.\nNations, however, have been fortunate in the tenor, and in the execution of\ntheir laws, in proportion as they have admitted every order of the people,\nby representation or otherwise, to an actual share of the legislature.\nUnder establishments of this sort, law is literally a treaty, to which the\nparties concerned have agreed, and have given their opinion in settling its\nterms. The interests to be affected by a law, are likewise consulted in\nmaking it. Every class propounds an objection, suggests an addition or an\namendment of its own. They proceed to adjust, by statute, every subject of\ncontroversy: and while they continue to enjoy their freedom, they continue\nto multiply laws, and to accumulate volumes, as if they could remove every\npossible ground of dispute, and were secure of their rights, merely by\nhaving put them in writing.\n\nRome and England, under their mixed governments, the one inclining to\ndemocracy, and the other to monarchy, have proved the great legislators\namong nations. The first has left the foundation, and great part of the\nsuperstructure of its civil code to the continent of Europe: the other, in\nits island, has carried the authority and government of law to a point of\nperfection, which they never before attained in the history of mankind.\n\nUnder such favourable establishments, known customs, the practice and\ndecisions of courts, as well as positive statutes, acquire the authority of\nlaws; and every proceeding is conducted by some fixed and determinate rule.\nThe best and most effectual precautions are taken for the impartial\napplication of rules to particular cases; and it is remarkable, that, in\nthe two examples we have mentioned, a surprising coincidence is found in\nthe singular methods of their jurisdiction. The people in both reserved in\na manner the office of judgment to themselves, and brought the decision of\ncivil rights, or of criminal questions, to the tribunal of peers, who, in\njudging of their fellow citizens, prescribed a condition of life for\nthemselves.\n\nIt is not in mere laws, after all, that we are to look for the securities\nto justice, but in the powers by which these laws have been obtained, and\nwithout whose constant support they must fall to disuse. Statutes serve to\nrecord the rights of a people, and speak the intention of parties to defend\nwhat the letter of the law has expressed; but without the vigour to\nmaintain what is acknowledged as a right, the mere record, or the feeble\nintention, is of little avail.\n\nA populace roused by oppression, or an order of men possessed of temporary\nadvantage, have obtained many charters, concessions, and stipulations, in\nfavour of their claims; but where no adequate preparation was made to\npreserve them, the written articles were often forgotten, together with the\noccasion on which they were framed.\n\nThe history of England, and of every free country, abounds with the example\nof statutes enacted when the people or their representatives assembled, but\nnever executed when the crown or the executive was left to itself. The most\nequitable laws on paper are consistent with the utmost despotism in\nadministration. Even the form of trial by juries in England had its\nauthority in law, while the proceedings of courts were arbitrary and\noppressive.\n\nWe must admire, as the key stone of civil liberty, the statute which forces\nthe secrets of every prison to be revealed, the cause of every commitment\nto be declared, and the person of the accused to be produced, that he may\nclaim his enlargement, or his trial, within a limited time. No wiser form\nwas ever opposed to the abuses of power. But it requires a fabric no less\nthan the whole political constitution of Great Britain, a spirit no less\nthan the refractory and turbulent zeal of this fortunate people, to secure\nits effects.\n\nIf even the safety of the person, and the tenure of property, which may be\nso well defined in the words of a statute, depend, for their preservation,\non the vigour and jealousy of a free people, and on the degree of\nconsideration which every order of the state maintains for itself; it is\nstill more evident, that what we have called the political freedom, or the\nright of the individual to act in his station for himself and the public,\ncannot be made to rest on any other foundation. The estate may be saved,\nand the person released, by the forms of a civil procedure; but the rights\nof the mind cannot be sustained by any other force but its own.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION VII.\n\nOF THE HISTORY OF ARTS.\n\n\nWe have already observed, that art is natural to man; and that the skill he\nacquires after many ages of practice, is only the improvement of a talent\nhe possessed at the first. Vitruvius finds the rudiments of architecture in\nthe form of a Scythian cottage. The armourer may find the first productions\nof his calling in the sling and the bow; and the shipwright of his in the\ncanoe of the savage. Even the historian and the poet may find the original\nessays of their arts in the tale, and the song, which celebrate the wars,\nthe loves, and the adventures of men in their rudest condition.\n\nDestined to cultivate his own nature, or to mend his situation, man finds a\ncontinual subject of attention, ingenuity, and labour. Even where he does\nnot propose any personal improvement, his faculties are strengthened by\nthose very exercises in which he seems to forget himself: his reason and\nhis affections are thus profitably engaged in the affairs of society; his\ninvention and his skill are exercised in procuring his accommodations and\nhis food; his particular pursuits are prescribed to him by circumstances of\nthe age, and of the country in which he lives: in one situation, he is\noccupied with wars and political deliberations; in another, with the care\nof his interest, of his personal ease, or conveniency. He suits his means\nto the ends he has in view; and, by multiplying contrivances, proceeds, by\ndegrees, to the perfection of his arts. In every step of his progress, if\nhis skill be increased, his desire must likewise have time to extend: and\nit would be as vain to suggest a contrivance of which he slighted the use,\nas it would be to tell him of blessings which he could not command.\n\nAges are generally supposed to have borrowed from those who went before\nthem, and nations to have received their portion of learning or of art from\nabroad. The Romans are thought to have learned from the Greeks, and the\nmoderns of Europe from both. From a few examples of this sort, we learn to\nconsider every science or art as derived, and admit of nothing original in\nthe practice or manners of any people. The Greek was a copy of the\nEgyptian, and even the Egyptian was an imitator, though we have lost sight\nof the model on which he was formed.\n\nIt is known, that men improve by example and intercourse; but in the case\nof nations, whose members excite and direct each other, why seek from\nabroad the origin of arts, of which every society, having the principles in\nitself, only requires a favourable occasion to bring them to light? When\nsuch occasion presents itself to any people, they generally seize it; and\nwhile it continues, they improve the inventions to which it gave rise among\nthemselves, or they willingly copy from others: but they never employ their\nown invention, nor look abroad, for instruction on subjects that do not lie\nin the way of their common pursuits; they never adopt a refinement of which\nthey have not discovered the use.\n\nInventions, we frequently observe, are accidental; but it is probable, that\nan accident which escapes the artist in one age, may be seized by one who\nsucceeds him, and who is better apprized of its use. Where circumstances\nare favourable, and where a people is intent on the objects of any art,\nevery invention is preserved, by being brought into general practice; every\nmodel is studied, and every accident is turned to account. If nations\nactually borrow from their neighbours, they probably borrow only what they\nare nearly in a condition to have invented themselves.\n\nAny singular practice of one country, therefore, is seldom transferred to\nanother, till the way be prepared by the introduction of similar\ncircumstances. Hence our frequent complaints of the dulness or obstinacy of\nmankind, and of the dilatory communication of arts from one place to\nanother. While the Romans adopted the arts of Greece, the Thracians and\nIllyrians continued to behold them with indifference. Those arts were,\nduring one period, confined to the Greek colonies, and during another, to\nthe Roman. Even where they were spread by a visible intercourse, they were\nstill received by independent nations with the slowness of invention. They\nmade a progress not more rapid at Rome than they had done at Athens; and\nthey passed to the extremities of the Roman empire, only in company with\nnew colonies, and joined to Italian policy.\n\nThe modern race, who came abroad to the possession of cultivated provinces,\nretained the arts they had practised at home: the new master hunted the\nboar, or pastured his herds, where he might have raised a plentiful\nharvest; he built a cottage in the view of a palace; he buried, in one\ncommon ruin, the edifices, sculptures, paintings, and libraries, of the\nformer inhabitant: he made a settlement upon a plan of his own, be said\nwith assurance, that although the Roman and the modern literature savour\nalike of the Greek original, yet mankind, in either instance, would not\nhave drank of this fountain, unless they had been hastening to open springs\nof their own.\n\nSentiment and fancy, the use of the hand or the head, are not inventions of\nparticular men; and the flourishing of arts that depend on them, are, in\nthe case of any people, a proof rather of political felicity at home, than\nof any instruction received from abroad, or of any natural superiority in\npoint of industry or talents.\n\nWhen the attentions of men are turned toward particular subjects, when the\nacquisitions of one age are left entire to the next, when every individual\nis protected in his place, and left to pursue the suggestion of his wants,\ninventions accumulate; and it is difficult to find the original of any art.\nThe steps which lead to perfection are many; and we are at a loss on whom\nto bestow the greatest share of our praise; on the first, or on the last,\nwho may have borne a part in the progress.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION VIII.\n\nOF THE HISTORY OF LITERATURE.\n\n\nIf we may rely on the general observations contained in the last section,\nthe literary, as well as mechanical arts, being a natural produce of the\nhuman mind, will rise spontaneously wherever men are happily placed; and in\ncertain nations it is not more necessary to look abroad for the origin of\nliterature, than it is for the suggestion of any of the pleasures or\nexercises in which mankind, under a state of prosperity and freedom, are\nsufficiently inclined to indulge themselves.\n\nWe are apt to consider arts as foreign and adventitious to the nature of\nman; but there is no art that did not find its occasion in human life, and\nthat was not, in some one or other of the situations in which our species\nis found, suggested as a means for the attainment of some useful end. The\nmechanic and commercial arts took their rise from the love of property, and\nwere encouraged by the prospects of safety and of gain: the literary and\nliberal arts took their rise from the understanding, the fancy, and the\nheart. They are mere exercises of the mind in search of its peculiar\npleasures and occupations; and are promoted by circumstances that suffer\nthe mind to enjoy itself.\n\nMen are equally engaged by the past, the present, and the future, and are\nprepared for every occupation that gives scope to their powers.\nProductions, therefore, whether of narration, fiction, or reasoning, that\ntend to employ the imagination, or move the heart; continue for ages a\nsubject of attention, and a source of delight. The memory of human\ntransactions being preserved in tradition or writing, is the natural\ngratification of a passion that consists of curiosity, admiration, and the\nlove of amusement.\n\nBefore many books are written, and before science is greatly advanced, the\nproductions of mere genius are sometimes complete: the performer requires\nnot the aid of learning where his description of story relates to near and\ncontiguous objects; where it relates to the conduct and characters of men\nwith whom he himself has acted, and in whose occupations and fortunes he\nhimself has borne a part.\n\nWith this advantage, the poet is the first to offer the fruits of his\ngenius, and to lead in the career of those arts by which the mind is\ndestined to exhibit its imaginations, and to express its passions. Every\ntribe of barbarians have their passionate or historic rhymes, which contain\nthe superstition, the enthusiasm, and the admiration of glory, with which\nthe breasts of men, in the earliest state of society, are possessed. They\ndelight in versification, either because the cadence of numbers is natural\nto the language of sentiment, or because, not having the advantage of\nwriting, they are obliged to bring the ear in aid of the memory, in order\nto facilitate the repetition, and ensure the preservation of their works.\n\nWhen we attend to the language which savages employ on any solemn occasion,\nit appears that man is a poet by nature. Whether at first obliged by the\nmere defects of his tongue, and the scantiness of proper expressions, or\nseduced by a pleasure of the fancy in stating the analogy of its objects,\nhe clothes every conception in image and metaphor. \"We have planted the\ntree of peace,\" says an American orator; \"we have buried the axe under its\nroots: we will henceforth repose under its shade; we will join to brighten\nthe chain that binds our nations together.\" Such are the collections of\nmetaphor which those nations employ in their public harangues. They have\nlikewise already adopted those lively figures, and that daring freedom of\nlanguage, which the learned have afterwards found so well fitted to express\nthe rapid transitions of the imagination, and the ardours of a passionate\nmind.\n\nIf we are required to explain, how men could be poets, or orators, before\nthey were aided by the learning of the scholar and the critic? we may\ninquire, in our turn, how bodies could fall by their weight, before the\nlaws of gravitation were recorded in books? Mind, as well as body, has\nlaws, which are exemplified in the course of nature, and which the critic\ncollects only after the example has shown what they are.\n\nOccasioned, probably, by the physical connection we have mentioned, between\nthe emotions of a heated imagination, and the impressions received from\nmusic and pathetic sounds, every tale among rude nations is repeated in\nverse, and is made to take the form of a song. The early history of all\nnations is uniform in this particular. Priests, statesmen, and\nphilosophers, in the first ages of Greece, delivered their instructions in\npoetry, and mixed with the dealers in music and heroic fable.\n\nIt is not so surprising, however, that poetry should be the first species\nof composition in every nation, as it is that a style, apparently so\ndifficult, and so far removed from ordinary use, should be almost as\nuniversally the first to attain its maturity. The most admired of all poets\nlived beyond the reach of history, almost of tradition. The artless song of\nthe savage, the heroic legend of the bard, have sometimes a magnificent\nbeauty, which no change of language can improve, and no refinements of the\ncritic reform. [Footnote: See Translations of Gallic Poetry, by James\nMcPherson.]\n\nUnder the supposed disadvantage of a limited knowledge, and a rude\napprehension, the simple poet has impressions that more than compensate the\ndefects of his skill. The best subjects of poetry, the characters of the\nviolent and the brave, the generous and the intrepid, great dangers, trials\nof fortitude and fidelity, are exhibited within his view, or are delivered\nin traditions which animate like truth, because they are equally believed.\nHe is not engaged in recalling, like Virgil or Tasso, the sentiments or\nscenery of an age remote from his own; he needs not be told by the critic,\n[Footnote: See Longinus.] to recollect what another would have thought, or\nin what manner another would have expressed his conception. The simple\npassions, friendship, resentment, and love, are the movements of his own\nmind, and he has no occasion to copy. Simple and vehement in his\nconceptions and feelings, he knows no diversity of thought, or of style, to\nmislead or to exercise his judgment. He delivers the emotions of the heart,\nin words suggested by the heart; for he knows no other. And hence it is,\nthat while we admire the judgment and invention of Virgil, and of other\nlater poets, these terms appear misapplied to Homer. Though intelligent, as\nwell as sublime, in his conceptions, we cannot anticipate the lights of his\nunderstanding, nor the movements of his heart; he appears to speak from\ninspiration, not from invention; and to be guided in the choice of his\nthoughts and expressions by a supernatural instinct, not by reflection.\n\nThe language of early ages is, in one respect, simple and confined; in\nanother, it is varied and free: it allows liberties, which, to the poet of\nafter-times, are denied.\n\nIn rude ages men are not separated by distinctions of rank or profession.\nThey live in one manner, and speak one dialect. The bard is not to choose\nhis expression among the singular accents of different conditions. He has\nnot to guard his language from the peculiar errors of the mechanic, the\npeasant, the scholar, or the courtier, in order to find that elegant\npropriety, and just elevation, which is free from the vulgar of one class,\nthe pedantic of the second, or the flippant of the third. The name of every\nobject, and of every sentiment, is fixed; and if his conception has the\ndignity of nature, his expression will have a purity which does not depend\non his choice.\n\nWith this apparent confinement in the choice of his words, he is at liberty\nto break through the ordinary modes of construction; and in the form of a\nlanguage not established by rules, may find for himself a cadence agreeable\nto the tone of his mind. The liberty he takes, while his meaning is\nstriking, and his language is raised, appears an improvement, not a\ntrespass on grammar. He delivers a style to the ages that follow, and\nbecomes a model from which his posterity judge.\n\nBut whatever may be the early disposition of mankind to poetry, or the\nadvantages they possess in cultivating this species of literature; whether\nthe early maturity of poetical compositions arise from their being the\nfirst studied, or from their having a charm to engage persons of the\nliveliest genius, who are best qualified to improve the eloquence of their\nnative tongue; it is a remarkable fact, that, not only in countries where\nevery vein of composition was original, and was opened in the order of\nnatural succession; but even at Rome, and in modern Europe, where the\nlearned began early to practise on foreign models, we have poets of every\nnation, who are perused with pleasure, while the prose writers of the same\nages are neglected.\n\nAs Sophocles and Euripides preceded the historians and moralists of Greece,\nnot only Naevius and Ennius, who wrote the Roman history in verse, but\nLucilius, Plautus, Terence, and we may add Lucretius, were prior to Cicero,\nSallust, or Caesar. Dante and Petrarch went before any good prose writer in\nItaly; Corneille and Racine brought on the fine age of prose compositions\nin France; and we had in England, not only Chaucer and Spenser, but\nShakspeare and Milton, while our attempts in history or science were yet in\ntheir infancy; and deserve our attention, only for the sake of the matter\nthey treat.\n\nHellanicus, who is reckoned among the first prose writers in Greece, and\nwho immediately preceded, or was the contemporary of Herodotus, set out\nwith declaring his intention to remove from history the wild\nrepresentations, and extravagant fictions, with which it had been disgraced\nby the poets. [Footnote: Quoted by Demetrius Phalerius.] The want of\nrecords or authorities, relating to any distant transactions, may have\nhindered him, as it did his immediate successor, from giving truth all the\nadvantage it might have reaped from this transition to prose. There are,\nhowever, ages in the progress of society, when such a proposition must be\nfavourably received. When men become occupied on the subjects of policy, or\ncommercial arts, they wish to be informed and instructed, as well as moved.\nThey are interested by what was real in past transactions. They build on\nthis foundation the reflections and reasonings they apply to present\naffairs, and wish to receive information on the subject of different\npursuits, and of projects in which they begin to be engaged. The manners of\nmen, the practice of ordinary life, and the form of society, furnish their\nsubjects to the moral and political writer. Mere ingenuity, justness of\nsentiment, and correct representation, though conveyed in ordinary\nlanguage, are understood to constitute literary merit, and by applying to\nreason more than to the imagination and passions, meet with a reception\nthat is due to the instruction they bring.\n\nThe talents of men come to be employed in a variety of affairs, and their\ninquiries directed to different subjects. Knowledge is important in every\ndepartment of civil society, and requisite to the practice of every art.\nThe science of nature, morals, politics, and history, find their, several\nadmirers; and even poetry itself, which retains its former station in the\nregion of warm imagination and enthusiastic passion, appears in a growing\nvariety of forms.\n\nMatters have proceeded so far, without the aid of foreign examples, or the\ndirection of schools. The cart of Thespis was changed into a theatre, not\nto gratify the learned, but to please the Athenian populace; and the prize\nof poetical merit was decided by this populace equally before and after the\ninvention of rules. The Greeks were unacquainted with every language but\ntheir own; and if they became learned, it was only by studying what they\nthemselves had produced: the childish mythology, which they are said to\nhave copied from Asia, was equally of little avail in promoting their love\nof arts, or their success in the practice of them.\n\nWhen the historian is struck with the events he has witnessed, or heard;\nwhen he is excited to relate them by his reflections or his passions; when\nthe statesman, who is required to speak in public, is obliged to prepare\nfor every remarkable appearance in studied harangues; when conversation\nbecomes extensive and refined; and when the social feelings and reflections\nof men are committed to writing, a system of learning may arise from the\nbustle of an active life. Society itself is the school, and its lessons are\ndelivered in the practice of real affairs. An author writes from\nobservations he has made on his subject, not from the suggestion of books;\nand every production carries the mark of his character as a man, not of his\nmere proficiency as a student or scholar. It may be made a question,\nwhether the trouble of seeking for distant models, and of wading for\ninstruction, through dark allusions and languages unknown, might not have\nquenched his fire, and rendered him a writer of a very inferior class.\n\nIf society may thus be considered as a school for letters, it is probable\nthat its lessons are varied in every separate state, and in every age. For\na certain period, the severe applications of the Roman people to policy and\nwar suppressed the literary arts, and appear to have stifled the genius\neven of the historian and the poet. The institutions of Sparta gave a\nprofessed contempt for whatever was not connected with the practical\nvirtues of a vigorous and resolute spirit: the charms of imagination, and\nthe parade of language, were by this people classed with the arts of the\ncook and the perfumer: their songs in praise of fortitude are mentioned by\nsome writers; and collections of their witty sayings and repartees are\nstill preserved: they indicate the virtues and the abilities of an active\npeople, not their proficiency in science or literary taste. Possessed of\nwhat was essential to happiness in the virtues of the heart, they had a\ndiscernment of its value, unembarrassed by the numberless objects on which\nmankind in general are so much at a loss to adjust their esteem: fixed in\ntheir own apprehension, they turned a sharp edge on the follies of mankind.\n\"When will you begin to practise it?\" was the question of a Spartan to a\nperson who, in an advanced age of life, was still occupied with questions\non the nature of virtue.\n\nWhile this people confined their studies to one question, how to improve\nand to preserve the courage and disinterested affections of the human\nheart; their rivals, the Athenians, gave a scope to refinement on every\nobject of reflection or passion. By the rewards, either of profit or of\nreputation, which they bestowed on every effort of ingenuity employed in\nministering to the pleasure, the decoration, or the conveniency of life; by\nthe variety of conditions in which their citizens were placed; by their\ninequalities of fortune, and their several pursuits in war, politics,\ncommerce, and lucrative arts, they awakened whatever was either good or bad\nin the natural dispositions of men. Every road to eminence was opened:\neloquence, fortitude, military skill, envy, detraction, faction, and\ntreason, even the muse herself, was courted to bestow importance among a\nbusy, acute, and turbulent people.\n\nFrom this example, we may safely conclude, that although business is\nsometimes a rival to study, retirement and leisure are not the principal\nrequisites to the improvement, perhaps not even to the exercise, of\nliterary talents. The most striking exertions of imagination and sentiment\nhave a reference to mankind: they are excited by the presence and\nintercourse of men: they have most vigour when actuated in the mind by the\noperation of its principal springs, by the emulations, the friendships, and\nthe oppositions which subsist among a forward and aspiring people. Amidst\nthe great occasions which put a free, and even a licentious society in\nmotion, its members become capable of every exertion; and the same scenes\nwhich gave employment to Themistocles and Thrasybulus, inspired, by\ncontagion, the genius of Sophocles and Plato. The petulant and the\ningenious find an equal scope to their talents; and literary monuments\nbecome the repositories of envy and folly, as well as of wisdom and virtue.\n\nGreece, divided into many little states, and agitated, beyond any spot on\nthe globe, by domestic contentions and foreign wars, set the example in\nevery species of literature. The fire was communicated to Rome; not when\nthe state ceased to be warlike, and had discontinued her political\nagitations, but when she mixed the love of refinement and of pleasure with\nher national pursuits, and indulged an inclination to study in the midst of\nferments, occasioned by the wars and pretensions of opposite factions. It\nwas revived in modern Europe among the turbulent states of Italy, and\nspread to the north, together with the spirit which shook the fabric of the\nGothic policy: it rose while men were divided into parties, under civil or\nreligious denominations, and when they were at variance on subjects held\nthe most important and sacred.\n\nWe may be satisfied, from the example of many ages, that liberal endowments\nbestowed on learned societies, and the leisure with which they were\nfurnished for study, are not the likeliest means to excite the exertions of\ngenius: even science itself, the supposed offspring of leisure, pined in\nthe shade of monastic retirement. Men at a distance from the objects of\nuseful knowledge, untouched by the motives that animate an active and a\nvigorous mind, could produce only the jargon of a technical language, and\naccumulate the impertinence of academical forms.\n\nTo speak or to write justly from an observation of nature, it is necessary\nto have felt the sentiments of nature. He who is penetrating and ardent in\nthe conduct of life, will probably exert a proportional force and ingenuity\nin the exercise of his literary talents: and although writing may become a\ntrade, and require all the application and study which are bestowed on any\nother calling; yet the principal requisites in this calling are, the spirit\nand sensibility of a vigorous mind.\n\nIn one period, the school may take its light and direction from active\nlife; in another, it is true, the remains of an active spirit are greatly\nsupported by literary monuments, and by the history of transactions that\npreserve the examples and the experience of former and of better times. But\nin whatever manner men are formed for great efforts of elocution or\nconduct, it appears the most glaring of all deceptions, to look for the\naccomplishments of a human character in the mere attainments of\nspeculation, whilst we neglect the qualities of fortitude and public\naffection, which are so necessary to render our knowledge an article of\nhappiness or of use.\n\n\n\n\nPART FOURTH.\n\nOF CONSEQUENCES THAT RESULT FROM THE ADVANCEMENT OF CIVIL AND COMMERCIAL\nARTS.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\nSECTION I.\n\nOF THE SEPARATION OF ARTS AND PROFESSIONS.\n\n\nIt is evident, that, however urged by a sense of necessity, and a desire of\nconvenience, or favoured by any advantages of situation and policy, a\npeople can make no great progress in cultivating the arts of life, until\nthey have separated, and committed to different persons, the several tasks\nwhich require a peculiar skill and attention. The savage, or the barbarian,\nwho must build and plant, and fabricate for himself, prefers, in the\ninterval of great alarms and fatigues, the enjoyments of sloth to the\nimprovement of his fortune: he is, perhaps, by the diversity of his wants,\ndiscouraged from industry; or, by his divided attention, prevented from\nacquiring skill in the management of any particular subject.\n\nThe enjoyment of peace, however, and the prospect of being able to exchange\none commodity for another, turns, by degrees, the hunter and the warrior\ninto a tradesman and a merchant. The accidents which distribute the means\nof subsistence unequally, inclination, and favourable opportunities, assign\nthe different occupations of men; and a sense of utility leads them,\nwithout end, to subdivide their professions.\n\nThe artist finds, that the more he can confine his attention to a\nparticular part of any work, his productions are the more perfect, and grow\nunder his hands in the greater quantities. Every undertaker in manufacture\nfinds, that the more he can subdivide the tasks of his workmen, and the\nmore hands he can employ on separate articles, the more are his expenses\ndiminished, and his profits increased. The consumer too requires, in every\nkind of commodity, a workmanship more perfect than hands employed on a\nvariety of subjects can produce; and the progress of commerce is but a\ncontinued subdivision of the mechanical arts.\n\nEvery craft may engross the whole of a man's attention, and has a mystery\nwhich must be studied or learned by a regular apprenticeship. Nations of\ntradesmen come to consist of members, who, beyond their own particular\ntrade, are ignorant of all human affairs, and who may contribute to the\npreservation and enlargement of their commonwealth, without making its\ninterest an object of their regard or attention. Every individual is\ndistinguished by his calling, and has a place to which he is fitted. The\nsavage, who knows no distinction but that of his merit, of his sex, or of\nhis species, and to whom his community is the sovereign object of\naffection, is astonished to find, that in a scene of this nature, his being\na man does not qualify him for any station whatever: he flies to the woods\nwith amazement, distaste, and aversion.\n\nBy the separation of arts and professions, the sources of wealth are laid\nopen; every species of material is wrought up to the greatest perfection,\nand every commodity is produced in the greatest abundance. The state may\nestimate its profits and its revenues by the number of its people. It may\nprocure, by its treasure, that national consideration and power, which the\nsavage maintains at the expense of his blood.\n\nThe advantage gained in the inferior branches of manufacture by the\nseparation of their parts, seem to be equalled by those which arise from a\nsimilar device in the higher departments of policy and war. The soldier is\nrelieved from every care but that of his service; statesmen divide the\nbusiness of civil government into shares; and the servants of the public,\nin every office, without being skilful in the affairs of state, may\nsucceed, by observing forms which are already established on the experience\nof others. They are made, like the parts of an engine, to concur to a\npurpose, without any concert of their own: and equally blind with the\ntrader to any general combination, they unite with him, in furnishing to\nthe state its resources, its conduct, and its force.\n\nThe artifices of the beaver, the ant, and the bee, are ascribed to the\nwisdom of nature. Those of polished nations are ascribed to themselves, and\nare supposed to indicate a capacity superior to that of rude minds. But the\nestablishments of men, like those of every animal, are suggested by nature,\nand are the result of instinct, directed by the variety of situations in\nwhich mankind are placed. Those establishments arose from successive\nimprovements that were made, without any sense of their general effect; and\nthey bring human affairs to a state of complication, which the greatest\nreach of capacity with which human nature was ever adorned, could not have\nprojected; nor even when the whole is carried into execution, can it be\ncomprehended in its full extent.\n\nWho could anticipate, or even enumerate, the separate occupations and\nprofessions by which the members of any commercial state are distinguished;\nthe variety of devices which are practised in separate cells, and which the\nartist, attentive to his own affair, has invented, to abridge or to\nfacilitate his separate task? In coming to this mighty end, every\ngeneration, compared to its predecessors, may have appeared to be\ningenious; compared to its followers, may have appeared to be dull: and\nhuman ingenuity, whatever heights it may have gained in a succession of\nages, continues to move with an equal pace, and to creep in making the\nlast, as well as the first, step of commercial or civil improvement.\n\nIt may even be doubted, whether the measure of national capacity increases\nwith the advancement of arts. Many mechanical arts, indeed, require no\ncapacity; they succeed best under a total suppression of sentiment and\nreason; and ignorance is the mother of industry as well as of superstition.\nReflection and fancy are subject to err; but a habit of moving the hand, or\nthe foot, is independent of either. Manufactures, accordingly, prosper most\nwhere the mind is least consulted, and where the workshop may, without any\ngreat effort of imagination, be considered as an engine, the parts of which\nare men.\n\nThe forest has been felled by the savage without the use of the axe, and\nweights have been raised without the aid of the mechanical powers. The\nmerit of the inventor, in every branch, probably deserves a preference to\nthat of the performer; and he who invented a tool, or could work without\nits assistance, deserved the praise of ingenuity in a much higher degree\nthan the mere artist, who, by its assistance, produces a superior work.\n\nBut if many parts in the practice of every art, and in the detail of every\ndepartment, require no abilities, or actually tend to contract and to limit\nthe views of the mind, there are others which lead to general reflections,\nand to enlargement of thought. Even in manufacture, the genius of the\nmaster, perhaps, is cultivated, while that of the inferior workman lies\nwaste. The statesman may have a wide comprehension of human affairs, while\nthe tools he employs are ignorant of the system in which they are\nthemselves combined. The general officer may be a great proficient in the\nknowledge of war, while the skill of the soldier is confined to a few\nmotions of the hand and the foot. The former may have gained what the\nlatter has lost; and being occupied in the conduct of disciplined armies,\nmay practise on a larger scale all the arts of preservation, of deception,\nand of stratagem, which the savage exerts in leading a small party, or\nmerely in defending himself.\n\nThe practitioner of every art and profession may afford matter of general\nspeculation to the man of science; and thinking itself, in this age of\nseparations, may become a peculiar craft. In the bustle of civil pursuits\nand occupations, men appear in a variety of lights, and suggest matter of\ninquiry and fancy, by which conversation is enlivened, and greatly\nenlarged. The productions of ingenuity are brought to the market; and men\nare willing to pay for whatever has a tendency to inform or amuse. By this\nmeans the idle, as well as the busy, contribute to forward the progress of\narts, and bestow on polished nations that air of superior ingenuity, under\nwhich they appear to have gained the ends that were pursued by the savage\nin his forest, knowledge, order, and wealth.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION II.\n\nOF THE SUBORDINATION CONSEQUENT TO THE SEPARATION OF ARTS AND PROFESSIONS.\n\n\nThere is one ground of subordination in the difference of natural talents\nand dispositions; a second in the unequal division of property; and a\nthird, not less sensible, in the habits which are acquired by the practice\nof different arts.\n\nSome employments are liberal, others mechanic. They require different\ntalents, and inspire different sentiments; and whether or not this be the\ncause of the preference we actually give, it is certainly reasonable to\nform our opinion of the rank that is due to men of certain professions and\nstations, from the influence of their manner of life in cultivating the\npowers of the mind, or in preserving the sentiments of the heart.\n\nThere is an elevation natural to man, by which he would be thought, in his\nrudest state, however urged by necessity, to rise above the consideration\nof mere subsistence, and the regards of interest: he would appear to act\nonly, from the heart, in its engagements of friendship or opposition; he\nwould shew himself only upon occasions of danger or difficulty, and leave\nordinary cares to the weak or the servile.\n\nThe same apprehensions, in every situation, regulate his notions of\nmeanness or of dignity. In that of polished society, his desire to avoid\nthe character of sordid, makes him conceal his regard for what relates\nmerely to his preservation or his livelihood. In his estimation, the\nbeggar, who depends upon charity; the labourer, who toils that he may eat;\nthe mechanic, whose art requires no exertion of genius, are degraded by the\nobject they pursue, and by the means they employ to attain it. Professions\nrequiring more knowledge and study; proceeding on the exercise of fancy,\nand the love of perfection; leading to applause as well as to profit, place\nthe artist in a superior class, and bring him nearer to that station in\nwhich men, because they are bound to no task, because they are left to\nfollow the disposition of the mind, and to take that part in society to\nwhich they are led by the sentiments of the heart, or by the calls of the\npublic, are supposed to be highest.\n\nThis last was the station, which, in the distinction betwixt freemen and\nslaves, the citizens of every ancient republic strove to gain, and to\nmaintain for themselves. Women, or slaves, in the earliest ages, had been\nset apart for the purposes of domestic care, or bodily labour; and in the\nprogress of lucrative arts, the latter were bred to mechanical professions,\nand were even intrusted with merchandise for the benefit of their masters.\nFreemen would be understood to have no object beside those of politics and\nwar. In this manner, the honours of one half of the species were sacrificed\nto those of the other; as stones from the same quarry are buried in the\nfoundation, to sustain the blocks which happen to be hewn for the superior\nparts of the pile. In the midst of our encomiums bestowed on the Greeks and\nthe Romans, we are, by this circumstance, made to remember, that no human\ninstitution is perfect.\n\nIn many of the Grecian states, the benefits arising to the free from this\ncruel distinction, were not conferred equally on all the citizens. Wealth\nbeing unequally divided, the rich alone were exempted from labour; the poor\nwere reduced to work for their own subsistence: interest was a reigning\npassion in both, and the possession of slaves, like that of any other\nlucrative property, became an object of avarice, not an exemption from\nsordid attentions. The entire effects of the institution were obtained, or\ncontinued to be enjoyed for any considerable time, at Sparta alone. We feel\nits injustice; we suffer for the helot, under the severities and unequal\ntreatment to which he was exposed: but when we think only of the superior\norder of men in this state; when we attend to that elevation and\nmagnanimity of spirit, for which danger had no terror, interest no means to\ncorrupt; when we consider them as friends, or as citizens, we are apt to\nforget, like themselves, that slaves have a title to be treated like men.\n\nWe look for elevation of sentiment, and liberality of mind, among those\norders of citizens, who, by their condition, and their fortunes, are\nrelieved from sordid cares and attentions. This was the description of a\nfree man at Sparta; and if the lot of a slave among the ancients was really\nmore wretched than that of the indigent labourer and the mechanic among the\nmoderns, it may be doubted whether the superior orders, who are in\npossession of consideration and honours, do not proportionally fail in the\ndignity which befits their condition. If the pretensions to equal justice\nand freedom should terminate in rendering every class equally servile and\nmercenary, we make a nation of helots, and have no free citizens.\n\nIn every commercial state, notwithstanding any pretension to equal rights,\nthe exaltation of a few must depress the many. In this arrangement, we\nthink that the extreme meanness of some classes must arise chiefly from the\ndefect of knowledge, and of liberal education; and we refer to such\nclasses, as to an image of what our species must have been in its rude and\nuncultivated state. But we forget how many circumstances, especially in\npopulous cities, tend to corrupt the lowest orders of men. Ignorance is the\nleast of their failings. An admiration of wealth unpossessed, becoming a\nprinciple of envy, or of servility; a habit of acting perpetually with a\nview to profit, and under a sense of subjection; the crimes to which they\nare allured, in order to feed their debauch, or to gratify their avarice,\nare examples, not of ignorance, but of corruption and baseness. If the\nsavage has not received our instructions, he is likewise unacquainted with\nour vices. He knows no superior, and cannot be servile; he knows no\ndistinctions of fortune, and cannot be envious; he acts from his talents in\nthe highest station which human society can offer, that of the counsellor,\nand the soldier of his country. Toward forming his sentiments, he knows all\nthat the heart requires to be known; he can distinguish the friend whom he\nloves, and the public interest which awakens his zeal.\n\nThe principal objections, to democratical or popular government, are taken\nfrom the inequalities which arise among men in the result of commercial\narts. And it must be confessed, that popular assemblies, when composed of\nmen whose dispositions are sordid, and whose ordinary applications are\nilliberal, however they may be intrusted with the choice of their masters\nand leaders, are certainly, in their own persons, unfit to command. How can\nhe who has confined his views to his own subsistence or preservation, be\nintrusted with the conduct of nations? Such men, when admitted to\ndeliberate on matters of state, bring to its councils confusion and tumult,\nor servility and corruption; and seldom suffer it to repose from ruinous\nfactions, or the effect of resolutions ill formed or ill conducted.\n\nThe Athenians retained their popular government under all these defects.\nThe mechanic was obliged, under a penalty, to appear in the public\nmarket-place, and to hear debates on the subjects of war and of peace. He\nwas tempted by pecuniary rewards, to attend on the trial of civil and\ncriminal causes. But, notwithstanding an exercise tending so much to\ncultivate their talents, the indigent came always with minds intent upon\nprofit, or with the habits of an illiberal calling. Sunk under the sense of\ntheir personal disparity and weakness, they were ready to resign themselves\nentirely to the influence of some popular leader, who flattered their\npassions, and wrought on their fears; or, actuated by envy, they were ready\nto banish from the state whomsoever was respectable and eminent in the\nsuperior order of citizens; and whether from their neglect of the public at\none time, or their mal-administration at another, the sovereignty was every\nmoment ready to drop from their hands.\n\nThe people, in this case, are, in fact, frequently governed by one, or a\nfew, who know how to conduct them. Pericles possessed a species of princely\nauthority at Athens; Crassus, Pompey, and Caesar, either jointly or\nsuccessively, possessed for a considerable period the sovereign direction\nat Rome.\n\nWhether in great or in small states, democracy is preserved with\ndifficulty, under the disparities of condition, and the unequal cultivation\nof the mind, which attend the variety of pursuits, and applications, that\nseparate mankind in the advanced state of commercial arts. In this,\nhowever, we do but plead against the form of democracy, after the principle\nis removed; and see the absurdity of pretensions to equal influence and\nconsideration, after the characters of men have ceased to be similar.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION III.\n\nOF THE MANNERS OF POLISHED AND COMMERCIAL NATIONS.\n\n\nMankind, when in their rude state, have a great uniformity of manners; but\nwhen civilized, they are engaged in a variety of pursuits; they tread on a\nlarger field, and separate to a greater distance. If they be guided,\nhowever, by similar dispositions, and by like suggestions of nature, they\nwill probably in the end, as well as in the beginning of their progress,\ncontinue to agree in many particulars; and while communities admit, in\ntheir members, that diversity of ranks and professions which we have\nalready described as the consequence or the foundation of commerce, they\nwill resemble each other in many effects of this distribution, and of other\ncircumstances in which they nearly concur.\n\nUnder every form of government, statesmen endeavour to remove the dangers\nby which they are threatened from abroad, and the disturbances which molest\nthem at home. By this conduct, if successful, they in a few ages gain an\nascendant for their country; establish a frontier at a distance from its\ncapital; they find, in the mutual desires of tranquillity, which come to\npossess mankind, and in those public establishments which tend to keep the\npeace of society, a respite from foreign wars, and a relief from domestic\ndisorders. They learn to decide every contest without tumult, and to\nsecure, by the authority of law, every citizen in the possession of his\npersonal rights.\n\nIn this condition, to which thriving nations aspire, and which they in some\nmeasure attain, mankind having laid the basis of safety, proceed to erect a\nsuperstructure suitable to their views. The consequence is various in\ndifferent states; even in different orders of men of the same community;\nand the effect to every individual corresponds with his station. It enables\nthe statesman and the soldier to settle the forms of their different\nprocedure; it enables the practitioner in every profession to pursue his\nseparate advantage; it affords the man of pleasure a time for refinement,\nand the speculative, leisure for literary conversation or study.\n\nIn this scene, matters that have little reference to the active pursuits of\nmankind, are made subjects of inquiry, and the exercise of sentiment and\nreason itself becomes a profession. The songs of the bard, the harangues of\nthe statesman and the warrior, the tradition and the story of ancient\ntimes, are considered as the models, or the earliest production, of so many\narts, which it becomes the object of different professions to copy or to\nimprove. The works of fancy, like the subjects of natural history, are\ndistinguished into classes and species; the rules of every particular kind\nare distinctly collected; and the library is stored, like the warehouse,\nwith the finished manufacture of different artists, who, with the aids of\nthe grammarian and the critic, aspire, each in his particular way, to\ninstruct the head, or to move the heart.\n\nEvery nation is a motley assemblage of different characters, and contains,\nunder any political form, some examples of that variety, which the humours,\ntempers, and apprehensions of men, so differently employed, are likely to\nfurnish. Every profession has its point of honour, and its system of\nmanners; the merchant his punctuality and fair dealing; the statesman his\ncapacity and address; the man of society his good breeding and wit. Every\nstation has a carriage, a dress, a ceremonial, by which it is\ndistinguished, and by which it suppresses the national character under that\nof the rank, or of the individual.\n\nThis description may be applied equally to Athens and Rome, to London and\nParis. The rude, or the simple observer, would remark the variety he saw in\nthe dwellings and in the occupations, of different men, not in the aspect\nof different nations. He would find, in the streets of the same city, as\ngreat a diversity, as in the territory of a separate people. He could not\npierce through the cloud that was gathered before him, nor see how the\ntradesman, mechanic, or scholar, of one country, should differ from those\nof another. But the native of every province can distinguish the foreigner;\nand when he himself travels, is struck with the aspect of a strange\ncountry, the moment he passes the bounds of his own. The air of the person,\nthe tone of the voice, the idiom of language, and the strain of\nconversation, whether pathetic or languid, gay or severe, are no longer the\nsame.\n\nMany such differences may arise among polished nations, from the effects of\nclimate, or from sources of fashion, that are still more hidden or\nunobserved; but the principal distinctions on which we can rest, are\nderived from the part a people are obliged to act in their national\ncapacity; from the objects placed in their view by the state; or from the\nconstitution of government, which, prescribing the terms of society to its\nsubjects, had a great influence in forming their apprehensions and habits.\n\nThe Roman people, destined to acquire wealth by conquest, and by the spoil\nof provinces; the Carthaginians, intent on the returns of merchandise, and\nthe produce of commercial settlements, must have filled the streets of\ntheir several capitals with men of a different disposition and aspect. The\nRoman laid hold of his sword when he wished to be great, and the state\nfound her armies prepared in the dwellings of her people. The Carthaginian\nretired to his counter on a similar project; and, when the state was\nalarmed, or had resolved on a war, lent of his profits to purchase an army\nabroad.\n\nThe member of a republic, and the subject of a monarchy, must differ;\nbecause they have different parts assigned to them by the forms of their\ncountry: the one destined to live with his equals, or to contend, by his\npersonal talents and character, for pre-eminence; the other, born to a\ndeterminate station, where any pretence to equality creates a confusion,\nand where nought but precedence is studied. Each, when the institutions of\nhis country are mature, may find in the laws a protection to his personal\nrights; but those rights themselves are differently understood, and with a\ndifferent set of opinions, give rise to a different temper of mind. The\nrepublican must act in the state, to sustain his pretensions; he must join\na party, in order to be safe; he must lead one, in order to be great. The\nsubject of monarchy refers to his birth for the honour he claims; he waits\non a court, to shew his importance; and holds out the ensigns of dependence\nand favour, to gain him esteem with the public.\n\nIf national institutions, calculated for the preservation of liberty,\ninstead of calling upon the citizen to act for himself, and to maintain his\nrights, should give a security, requiring, on his part, no personal\nattention or effort; this seeming perfection of government might weaken the\nbands of society, and, upon maxims of independence, separate and estrange\nthe different ranks it was meant to reconcile. Neither the parties formed\nin republics, nor the courtly assemblies, which meet in monarchical\ngovernments, could take place, where the sense of a mutual dependence\nshould cease to summon their members together. The resorts for commerce\nmight be frequented, and mere amusement might be pursued in the crowd,\nwhile the private dwelling became a retreat for reserve, averse to the\ntrouble arising from regards and attentions, which it might be part of the\npolitical creed to believe of no consequence, and a point of honour to hold\nin contempt.\n\nThis humour is not likely to grow either in republics or monarchies: it\nbelongs more properly to a mixture of both; where the administration of\njustice may be better secured; where the subject is tempted to look for\nequality, but where he finds only independence in its place; and where he\nlearns, from a spirit of equality, to hate the very distinctions to which,\non account of their real importance, he pays a remarkable deference.\n\nIn either of the separate forms of republic or monarchy, or in acting on\nthe principles of either, men are obliged to court their fellow citizens,\nand to employ parts and address to improve their fortunes, or even to be\nsafe. They find in both a school for discernment and penetration; but in\nthe one, are taught to overlook the merits of a private character for the\nsake of abilities that have weight with the public; and in the other to\noverlook great and respectable talents, for the sake of qualities engaging\nor pleasant in the scene of entertainment and private society. They are\nobliged, in both, to adapt themselves with care to the fashion and manners\nof their country. They find no place for caprice or singular humours. The\nrepublican must be popular, and the courtier polite. The first must think\nhimself well placed in every company; the other must choose his resorts,\nand desire to be distinguished only where the society itself is esteemed.\nWith his inferiors, he takes an air of protection; and suffers, in his\nturn, the same air to be taken with himself. It did not, perhaps, require\nin a Spartan, who feared nothing but a failure in his duty, who loved\nnothing but his friend and the state, so constant a guard on himself to\nsupport his character, as it frequently does in the subject of a monarchy,\nto adjust his expense and his fortune to the desires of his vanity, and to\nappear in a rank as high as his birth, or ambition, can possibly reach.\n\nThere is no particular, in the mean time, in which we are more frequently\nunjust, than in applying to the individual the supposed character of his\ncountry; or more frequently misled; than in taking our notion of a people\nfrom the example of one, or a few of their members. It belonged to the\nconstitution of Athens, to have produced a Cleon, and a Pericles; but all\nthe Athenians were not, therefore, like Cleon, or Pericles. Themistocles\nand Aristides lived in the same age; the one advised what was profitable,\nthe other told his country what was just.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION IV.\n\nTHE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.\n\n\nThe law of nature, with respect to nations, is the same that it is with\nrespect to individuals: it gives to the collective body a right to preserve\nthemselves; to employ undisturbed the means of life; to retain the fruits\nof labour; to demand the observance of stipulations and contracts. In the\ncase of violence, it condemns the aggressor, and establishes, on the part\nof the injured, the right of defence, and a claim to retribution. Its\napplications, however, admit of disputes, and give rise to variety in the\napprehension, as well as the practice of mankind.\n\nNations have agreed universally, in distinguishing right from wrong; in\nexacting the reparation of injuries by consent or by force. They have\nalways reposed, in a certain degree, on the faith of treaties; but have\nacted as if force were the ultimate arbiter in all their disputes, and the\npower to defend themselves, the surest pledge of their safety. Guided by\nthese common apprehensions, they have differed from one another, not merely\nin points of form, but in points of the greatest importance, respecting the\nusage of war, the effects of captivity, and the rights of conquest and\nvictory.\n\nWhen a number of independent communities have been frequently involved in\nwars, and have had their stated alliances and oppositions, they adopt\ncustoms which they make the foundation of rules, or of laws, to be\nobserved, or alleged, in all their mutual transactions. Even in war itself,\nthey would follow a system, and plead for the observance of forms in their\nvery operations for mutual destruction.\n\nThe ancient states of Greece and Italy derived their manners in war from\nthe nature of their republican government; those of modern Europe, from the\ninfluence of monarchy, which, by its prevalence in this part of the world,\nhas a great effect on nations, even where it is not the form established.\nUpon the maxims of this government, we apprehend a distinction between the\nstate and its members, as that between the king and the people, which\nrenders war an operation of policy, not of popular animosity. While we\nstrike at the public interest, we would spare the private; and we carry a\nrespect and consideration for individuals, which often stops the issues of\nblood in the ardour of victory, and procures to the prisoner of war a\nhospitable reception in the very city which he came to destroy. These\npractices are so well established, that scarcely any provocation on the\npart of an enemy, or any exigence of service, can excuse a trespass on the\nsupposed rules of humanity, or save the leader who commits it from becoming\nan object of detestation and horror.\n\nTo this, the general practice of the Greeks and the Romans was opposite.\nThey endeavoured to wound the state by destroying its members, by\ndesolating its territory, and by ruining the possessions of its subjects.\nThey granted quarter only to enslave, or to bring the prisoner to a more\nsolemn execution; and an enemy, when disarmed, was, for the most part,\neither sold in the market or killed, that he might never return to\nstrengthen his party. When this was the issue of war, it was no wonder that\nbattles were fought with desperation, and that every fortress was defended\nto the last extremity. The game of human life went upon a high stake, and\nwas played with a proportional zeal.\n\nThe term _barbarian_, in this state of manners, could not be employed\nby the Greeks or the Romans in that sense in which we use it: to\ncharacterize, a people regardless of commercial arts; profuse of their own\nlives, and those of others; vehement in their attachment to one society,\nand implacable in their antipathy to another. This, in a great and shining\npart of their history, was their own character, as well as that of some\nother nations, whom, upon this very account, we distinguish by the\nappellations of _barbarous_ or _rude._\n\nIt has been observed, that those celebrated nations are indebted, for a\ngreat part of their estimation, not to the matter of their history, but to\nthe manner in which it has been delivered, and to the capacity of their\nhistorians, and other writers. Their story has been told by men who knew\nhow to draw our attention on the proceedings of the understanding and of\nthe heart, more than on external effects; and who could exhibit characters\nto be admired and loved, in the midst of actions which we should now\nuniversally hate or condemn. Like Homer, the model of Grecian literature,\nthey could make us forget the horrors of a vindictive, cruel, and\nremorseless treatment of an enemy, in behalf of the strenuous conduct, the\ncourage, and vehement affections, with which the hero maintained the cause\nof his friend and of his country.\n\nOur manners are so different, and the system upon which we regulate our\napprehensions, in many things so opposite, that no less could make us\nendure the practice of ancient nations. Were that practice recorded by the\nmere journalist, who retains only the detail of events, without throwing\nany light on the character of the actors; who, like the Tartar historian,\ntells us only what blood was spilt in the field, and how many inhabitants\nwere massacred in the city; we should never have distinguished the Greeks\nfrom their barbarous neighbours, nor have thought, that the character of\ncivility pertained even to the Romans, till very late in their history, and\nin the decline of their empire.\n\nIt would, no doubt, be pleasant to see the remarks of such a traveller as\nwe sometimes send abroad to inspect the manners of mankind, left,\nunassisted by history, to collect the character of the Greeks from the\nstate of their country, or from their practice in war. \"This country,\" he\nmight say, \"compared to ours, has an air of barrenness and desolation. I\nsaw upon the road troops of labourers, who were employed in the fields; but\nno where the habitations of the master and the landlord. It was unsafe, I\nwas told, to reside in the country; and the people of every district\ncrowded into towns to find a place of defence. It is, indeed, impossible,\nthat they can be more civilized, till they have established some regular\ngovernment, and have courts of justice to hear their complaints. At present\nevery town, nay, I may say, every village, acts for itself, and the\ngreatest disorders prevail. I was not indeed molested; for you must know,\nthat they call themselves nations, and do all their mischief under the\npretence of war.\n\n\"I do not mean to take any of the liberties of travellers, nor to vie with\nthe celebrated author of the voyage to Lilliput; but cannot help\nendeavouring to communicate what I felt on hearing them speak of their\nterritory, their armies, their revenues, treaties, and alliances. Only\nimagine the church-wardens and constables of Highgate or Hampstead turned\nstatesmen and generals, and you will have a tolerable conception of this\nsingular country. I passed through one state, where the best house in the\ncapital would not lodge the meanest of your labourers, and where your very\nbeggars would not choose to dine with the king; and yet they are thought a\ngreat nation, and have no less than two kings. I saw one of them; but such\na potentate! He had scarcely clothes to his back; and for his majesty's\ntable, he was obliged to go to the eating-house with his subjects. They\nhave not a single farthing of money; and I was obliged to get food at the\npublic expense, there being none to be had in the market. You will imagine,\nthat there must have been a service of plate, and great attendance, to wait\non the illustrious stranger; but my fare was a mess of sorry pottage,\nbrought me by a naked slave, who left me to deal with it as I thought\nproper: and even this I was in continual danger of having stolen from me by\nthe children; who are as vigilant to seize opportunities, and as dexterous\nin snatching their food, as any starved greyhound you ever saw. The misery\nof the whole people, in short, as well as my own, while I staid there, was\nbeyond description. You would think that their whole attention were to\ntorment themselves as much as they can: they are even displeased with one\nof their kings for being well liked. He had made a present, while I was\nthere, of a cow to one favourite, and of a waistcoat to another; [Footnote:\nPlutarch in the life of Agesilaus,] and it was publicly said, that this\nmethod of gaining friends was robbing the public. My landlord told me very\ngravely, that a man should come under no obligation that might weaken the\nlove which he owes to his country; nor form any personal attachment beyond\nthe mere habit of living with his friend, and of doing him a kindness when\nhe can.\n\n\"I asked him once, why they did not, for their own sakes, enable their\nkings to assume a little more state? Because, says he, we intend them the\nhappiness of living with men. When I found fault with their houses, and\nsaid, in particular, that I was surprised they did not build better\nchurches: What would you be then, says he, if you found religion in stone\nwalls? This will suffice for a sample of our conversation; and sententious\nas it was, you may believe I did not stay long to profit by it.\n\n\"The people of this place are not quite so stupid. There is a pretty large\nsquare of a market-place, and some tolerable buildings; and, I am told,\nthey have some barks and lighters employed in trade, which they likewise,\nupon occasion, muster into a fleet, like my lord mayor's show. But what\npleases me most is, that I am likely to get a passage from hence, and bid\nfarewell to this wretched country. I have been at some pains to observe\ntheir ceremonies of religion, and to pick up curiosities. I have copied\nsome inscriptions, as you will see when you come to peruse my journal, and\nwill then judge, whether I have met with enough to compensate the fatigues\nand bad entertainment to which I have submitted. As for the people, you\nwill believe, from the specimen I have given you, that they could not be\nvery engaging company: though poor and dirty, they still pretend to be\nproud; and a fellow who is not worth a groat, is above working for his\nlivelihood. They come abroad barefooted, and without any cover to the head,\nwrapt up in the coverlets under which you would imagine they had slept.\nThey throw all off, and appear like so many naked cannibals, when they go\nto violent sports and exercises; at which they highly value feats of\ndexterity and strength. Brawny limbs, and muscular arms, the faculty of\nsleeping out all nights, of fasting long, and of putting up with any kind\nof food, are thought genteel accomplishments. They have no settled\ngovernment that I could learn; sometimes the mob, and sometimes the better\nsort, do what they please: they meet in great crowds in the open air, and\nseldom agree in any thing. If a fellow has presumption enough, and a loud\nvoice, he can make a great figure. There was a tanner here, some time ago,\nwho, for a while, carried every thing before him. He censured so loudly\nwhat others had done, and talked so big of what might be performed, that he\nwas sent out at last to make good his words, and to curry the enemy instead\nof his leather. [Footnote: Thucydides, lib. 4. Aristophanes] You will\nimagine, perhaps, that he was pressed for a recruit; no; he was sent to\ncommand the army. They are indeed seldom long of one mind, except in their\nreadiness to harass their neighbours. They go out in bodies, and rob,\npillage, and murder wherever they come.\" So far may we suppose our\ntraveller to have written; and upon a recollection of the reputation which\nthose nations have acquired at a distance, he might have added, perhaps,\n\"That he could not understand how scholars, fine gentlemen, and even women,\nshould combine to admire a people, who so little resemble themselves.\"\n\nTo form a judgment of the character from which they acted in the field, and\nin their competitions with neighbouring nations, we must observe them at\nhome. They were bold and fearless in their civil dissentions; ready to\nproceed to extremities, and to carry their debates to the decision of\nforce. Individuals stood distinguished by their personal spirit and vigour,\nnot by the valuation of their estates, or the rank of their birth. They had\na personal elevation founded on the sense of equality, not of precedence.\nThe general of one campaign was, during the next, a private soldier, and\nserved in the ranks. They were solicitous to acquire bodily strength;\nbecause, in the use of their weapons, battles were a trial of the soldier's\nstrength, as well as of the leader's conduct. The remains of their statuary\nshows a manly grace, an air of simplicity and ease, which being frequent in\nnature, were familiar to the artist. The mind, perhaps, borrowed a\nconfidence and force, from the vigour and address of the body; their\neloquence and style bore a resemblance to the carriage of the person. The\nunderstanding was chiefly cultivated in the practice of affairs. The most\nrespectable personages were obliged to mix with the crowd, and derived\ntheir degree of ascendancy only from their conduct, their eloquence, and\npersonal vigour. They had no forms of expression, to mark a ceremonious and\nguarded respect. Invective proceeded to railing, and the grossest terms\nwere often employed by the most admired and accomplished orators.\nQuarrelling had no rules but the immediate dictates of passion, which ended\nin words of reproach, in violence and blows. They fortunately went always\nunarmed; and to wear a sword in times of peace, was among them the mark of\na barbarian. When they took arms in the divisions of faction, the\nprevailing party supported itself by expelling their opponents, by\nproscriptions, and bloodshed. The usurper endeavoured to maintain his\nstation by the most violent and prompt executions. He was opposed, in his\nturn, by conspiracies and assassinations, in which the most respectable\ncitizens were ready to use the dagger.\n\nSuch was the character of their spirit, in its occasional ferments at home;\nand it burst commonly with a suitable violence and force, against their\nforeign rivals and enemies. The amiable plea of humanity was little\nregarded by them in the operations of war. Cities were razed, or enslaved;\nthe captive sold, mutilated, or condemned to die.\n\nWhen viewed on this side, the ancient nations have but a sorry plea for\nesteem with the inhabitants of modern Europe, who profess to carry the\ncivilities of peace into the practice of war; and who value the praise of\nindiscriminate lenity at a higher rate than even that of military prowess,\nor the love of their country. And yet they have, in other respects, merited\nand obtained our praise. Their ardent attachment to their country; their\ncontempt of suffering, and of death, in its cause; their manly\napprehensions of personal independence, which rendered every individual,\neven under tottering establishments and imperfect laws, the guardian of\nfreedom to his fellow citizens; their activity of mind; in short, their\npenetration, the ability of their conduct, and force of their spirit, have\ngained them the first rank among nations.\n\nIf their animosities were great, their affections were proportionate; they,\nperhaps, loved, where we only pity; and were stern and inexorable, where we\nare not merciful, but only irresolute. After all, the merit of a man is\ndetermined by his candour and generosity to his associates, by his zeal for\nnational objects, and by his vigour in maintaining political rights; not by\nmoderation alone, which proceeds frequently from indifference to national\nand public interest, and which serves to relax the nerves on which the\nforce of a private, as well as a public, character depends.\n\nWhen under the Macedonian and the Roman monarchies, a nation came to be\nconsidered as, the estate of a prince, and the inhabitants of a province to\nbe regarded as a lucrative property, the possession of territory, not the\ndestruction of its people, became the object of conquest. The pacific\ncitizen had little concern in the quarrels of sovereigns; the violence of\nthe soldier was restrained by discipline. He fought, because he was taught\nto carry arms, and to obey: he sometimes shed unnecessary blood in the\nardour of victory; but, except in the case of civil wars, had no passions\nto excite his animosity beyond the field and the day of battle. Leaders\njudged of the objects of an enterprise, and they arrested the sword when\nthese were obtained.\n\nIn the modern nations of Europe, where extent of territory admits of a\ndistinction between the state and its subjects, we are accustomed to think\nof the individual with compassion, seldom of the public with zeal. We have\nimproved on the laws of war, and on the lenitives which have been devised\nto soften its rigours; we have mingled politeness with the use of the\nsword; we have learned to make war under the stipulations of treaties and\ncartels, and trust to the faith of an enemy whose ruin we meditate. Glory\nis more successfully obtained by saving and protecting, than by destroying\nthe vanquished: and the most amiable of all objects is, in appearance,\nattained; the employing of force, only for the obtaining of justice, and\nfor the preservation of national rights.\n\nThis is, perhaps, the principal characteristic, on which, among modern\nnations, we bestow the epithets of _civilized_ or of _polished_.\nBut we have seen, that it did not accompany the progress of sorts among the\nGreeks, nor keep pace with the advancement of policy, literature, and\nphilosophy. It did not await the returns of learning and politeness among\nthe moderns; it was found in an early period of our history, and\ndistinguished, perhaps more than at present; the manners of the ages\notherwise rude and undisciplined. A king of France, prisoner in the hands\nof his enemies, was treated, about four hundred years ago, with as much\ndistinction and courtesy as a crowned head, in the like circumstances,\ncould possibly expect in this age of politeness. [Footnote: Hume's History\nof England.] The prince of Conde, defeated and taken in the battle of\nDreux, slept at night in the same bed with his enemy the duke of\nGuise. [Footnote: Davila.]\n\nIf the moral of popular traditions, and the taste of fabulous legends,\nwhich are the productions or entertainment of particular ages, are likewise\nsure indications of their notions and characters, we may presume, that the\nfoundation of what is now held to be the law of war, and, of nations, was\nlaid in the manners of Europe, together with the sentiments which are\nexpressed in the tales of chivalry, and of gallantry. Our system of war\ndiffers not more from that of the Greeks, than the favourite characters of\nour early romance differed from those of the Iliad, and of every ancient\npoem. The hero of the Greek fable, endued with superior force, courage, and\naddress, takes every advantage of an enemy, to kill with safety to himself;\nand, actuated by a desire of spoil, or by a principle of revenge, is never\nstayed in his progress by interruptions of remorse or compassion. Homer,\nwho, of all poets, knew best how to exhibit the emotions of a vehement\naffection, seldom attempts to excite commiseration. Hector falls unpitied,\nand his body is insulted by every Greek.\n\nOur modern fable, or romance, on the contrary, generally couples an object\nof pity, weak, oppressed, and defenceless, with an object of admiration,\nbrave, generous, and victorious; or sends the hero abroad in search of mere\ndanger, and of occasions to prove his valour. Charged with the maxims of a\nrefined courtesy, to be observed even towards an enemy; and of a scrupulous\nhonour, which will not suffer him to take any advantages by artifice or\nsurprise; indifferent to spoil, he contends only for renown, and employs\nhis valour to rescue the distressed, and to protect the innocent. If\nvictorious, he is made to rise above nature as much in his generosity and\ngentleness, as in his military prowess and valour.\n\nIt may be difficult, upon stating this contrast between the system of\nancient and modern fable, to assign, among nations, equally rude, equally\naddicted to war, and equally fond of military glory, the origin of\napprehensions on the point of honour, so different, and so opposite. The\nhero of Greek poetry proceeds on the maxims of animosity and hostile\npassion. His maxims in war are like those which prevail in the woods of\nAmerica. They require him to be brave, but they allow him to practise\nagainst his enemy every sort of deception. The hero of modern romance\nprofesses a contempt of stratagem, as well as of danger, and unites in the\nsame person, characters and dispositions seemingly opposite; ferocity with\ngentleness, and the love of blood with sentiments of tenderness and pity.\n\nThe system of chivalry, when completely formed, proceeded on a marvellous\nrespect and veneration to the fair sex, on forms of combat established, and\non a supposed junction of the heroic and sanctified character. The\nformalities of the duel, and a kind of judicial challenge, were known among\nthe ancient Celtic nations of Europe. [Footnote: Liv., lib. 28. c. 21.] The\nGermans, even in their native forests, paid a kind of devotion to the\nfemale sex. The Christian religion enjoined meekness and compassion to\nbarbarous ages. These different principles combined together, may have\nserved as the foundation of a system, in which courage was directed by\nreligion and love, and the warlike and gentle were united together. When\nthe characters of the hero and the saint were mixed, the mild spirit of\nChristianity, though often turned into venom by the bigotry of opposite\nparties, though it could not always subdue the ferocity of the warrior, nor\nsuppress the admiration of courage and force, may have confirmed the\napprehensions of men in what was to be held meritorious and splendid in the\nconduct of their quarrels.\n\nIn the early and traditionary history of the Greeks and the Romans, rapes\nwere assigned as the most frequent occasions of war; and the sexes were, no\ndoubt, at all times, equally important to each other. The enthusiasm of\nlove is most powerful in the neighbourhood of Asia and Africa; and beauty,\nas a possession, was probably more valued by the countrymen of Homer, than\nit was by those of Amadis de Gaul, or by the authors of modern gallantry.\n\"What wonder,\" says the old Priam, when Helen appeared, \"that nations\nshould contend for the possession of so much beauty?\" This beauty, indeed,\nwas possessed by different lovers; a subject on which the modern hero had\nmany refinements, and seemed to soar in the clouds. He adored at a\nrespectful distance, and employed his valour to captivate the admiration,\nnot to gain the possession of his mistress. A cold and unconquerable\nchastity was set up, as an idol to be worshipped, in the toils, the\nsufferings, and the combats of the hero and the lover.\n\nThe feudal establishments, by the high rank to which they elevated certain\nfamilies, no doubt, greatly favoured this romantic system. Not only the\nlustre of a noble descent, but the stately castle beset with battlements\nand towers, served to inflame the imagination, and to create a veneration\nfor the daughter and the sister of gallant chiefs, whose point of honour it\nwas to be inaccessible and chaste, and who could perceive no merit but that\nof the high minded and the brave, nor be approached in any other ascents\nthan those of gentleness and respect.\n\nWhat was originally singular in these apprehensions, was, by the writer of\nromance, turned to extravagance; and under the title of chivalry was\noffered as a model of conduct, even in common affairs: the fortunes of\nnations were directed by gallantry; and human life, on its greatest\noccasions, became a scene of affectation and folly. Warriors went forth to\nrealize the legends they had studied; princes and leaders of armies\ndedicated their most serious exploits to a real or to a fancied mistress.\n\nBut whatever was the origin of notions, often so lofty and so ridiculous,\nwe cannot doubt of their lasting effects on our manners. The point of\nhonour, the prevalence of gallantry in our conversations, and on our\ntheatres, many of the opinions which the vulgar apply even to the conduct\nof war; their notion, that the leader of an army, being offered battle upon\nequal terms, is dishonoured by declining it, are undoubtedly remains of\nthis antiquated system: and chivalry, uniting with the genius of our\npolicy, has probably suggested those peculiarities in the law of nations,\nby which modern states are distinguished from the ancient. And if our rule\nin measuring degrees of politeness and civilization is to be taken from\nhence, or from the advancement of commercial arts, we shall be found to\nhave greatly excelled any of the celebrated nations of antiquity.\n\n\nAN ESSAY ON THE HISTORY OF CIVIL SOCIETY.\n\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n\nPART FIFTH.\n\nOF THE DECLINE OF NATIONS.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nSECTION I.\n\nOF SUPPOSED NATIONAL EMINENCE, AND OF THE VICISSITUDES OF HUMAN AFFAIRS.\n\n\nNo nation is so unfortunate as to think itself inferior to the rest of\nmankind: few are even willing to put up with the claim to equality. The\ngreater part having chosen themselves, as at once, the judges and the\nmodels of what is excellent in their kind, are first in their own opinion,\nand give to others consideration or eminence, so far only as they approach\nto their own condition. One nation is vain of the personal character, or of\nthe learning of a few of its members; another, of its policy, its wealth,\nits tradesmen, its gardens, and its buildings; and they who have nothing to\nboast are vain, because they are ignorant. The Russians, before the reign\nof Peter the Great, thought themselves possessed of every national honour,\nand held the _Nemei_, or _dumb nations_, the name which they\nbestowed on then western neighbours of Europe, in a proportional degree of\ncontempt. [Footnote: Strahlenberg.] The map of the world, in China, was a\nsquare plate, the greater part of which was occupied by the provinces of\nthis great empire, leaving on its skirts a few obscure corners, into which\nthe wretched remainder of mankind were supposed to be driven. \"If you have\nnot the use of our letters, nor the knowledge of our books,\" said the\nlearned Chinese to the European missionary, \"what literature, or what\nscience can you have?\" [Footnote: Gemelli Carceri.]\n\nThe term _polished_, if we may judge from its etymology, originally\nreferred to the state of nations in respect to their laws and government;\nand men civilized were men practised in the duty of citizens. In its later\napplications, it refers no less to the proficiency of nations in the\nliberal and mechanical arts, in literature, and in commerce; and men\ncivilized are scholars, men of fashion and traders. But whatever may be its\napplication, it appears, that if there were a name still more respectable\nthan this, every nation, even the most barbarous, or the most corrupted,\nwould assume it; and bestow its reverse where they conceived a dislike, or\napprehended a difference. The names of _alien_ or _foreigner_,\nare seldom pronounced without some degree of intended reproach. That of\n_barbarian_, in use with one arrogant people, and that of\n_gentile_, with another, only served to distinguish the stranger,\nwhose language and pedigree differed from theirs.\n\nEven where we pretend to found our opinions on reason, and to justify our\npreference of one nation to another, we frequently bestow our esteem on\ncircumstances which do not relate to national character, and which have\nlittle tendency to promote the welfare of mankind. Conquest, or great\nextent of territory, however peopled, and great wealth, however distributed\nor employed, are titles upon which we indulge our own, and the vanity of\nother nations, as we do that of private men on the score of their fortunes\nand honours. We even sometimes contend, whose capital is the most\novergrown; whose king has the most absolute power; and at whose court the\nbread of the subject is consumed in the most senseless riot. These indeed\nare the notions of vulgar minds; but it is impossible to determine, how far\nthe notions of vulgar minds may lead mankind.\n\nThere have certainly, been very few examples of states, who have, by arts\nof policy, improved the original dispositions of human nature, or\nendeavoured, by wise and effectual precautions, to prevent its corruption.\nAffection, and force of mind, which are the band and the strength of\ncommunities, were the inspiration of God, and original attributes in the\nnature of man. The wisest policy of nations, except in a few instances, has\ntended, we may suspect, rather to maintain the peace of society, and to\nrepress the external effects of bad passions, than to strengthen the\ndisposition of the heart itself to justice and goodness. It has tended, by\nintroducing a variety of arts, to exercise the ingenuity of men, and by\nengaging them in a variety of pursuits, inquiries, and studies, to inform,\nbut frequently to corrupt the mind. It has tended to furnish matter of\ndistinction and vanity; and by incumbering the individual with new subjects\nof personal care, to substitute the anxiety he entertains for a separate\nfortune, instead of the confidence and the affection with which he should\nunite with his fellow creatures, for their joint preservation.\n\nWhether this suspicion be just or no, we are come to point at circumstances\ntending to verify, or to disprove it: and if to understand the real\nfelicity of nations be of importance, it is certainly so likewise, to know\nwhat are those weaknesses, and those vices, by which men not only mar this\nfelicity, but in one age forfeit all the external advantages they had\ngained in a former.\n\nThe wealth, the aggrandizement, and power of nations, are commonly the\neffects of virtue; the loss of these advantages is often a consequence of\nvice. Were we to suppose men to have succeeded in the discovery and\napplication of every art by which states are preserved and governed; to\nhave attained, by efforts of wisdom and magnanimity, the admired\nestablishments and advantages of a civilized and flourishing people; the\nsubsequent part of their history, containing, according to vulgar\napprehension, a full display of those fruits in maturity, of which they had\ntill then carried only the blossom, and the first formation, should, still\nmore than the former, merit our attention, and excite our admiration.\n\nThe event, however, has not corresponded to this expectation. The virtues\nof men have shone most during their struggles, not after the attainment of\ntheir ends. Those ends themselves, though attained by virtue, are\nfrequently the causes of corruption and vice. Mankind, in aspiring to\nnational felicity, have substituted arts which increase their riches,\ninstead of those which improve their nature. They have entertained\nadmiration of themselves, under the titles of _civilized_ and of\n_polished_, where they should have been affected with shame; and even\nwhere they have, for a while, acted on maxims tending to raise, to\ninvigorate, and to preserve the national character, they have, sooner or\nlater, been diverted from their object, and fallen a prey to misfortune, or\nto the neglects which prosperity itself had encouraged.\n\nWar, which furnishes mankind with a principal occupation of their restless\nspirit, serves, by the variety of its events, to diversify their fortunes.\nWhile it opens to one tribe or society, the way to eminence, and leads to\ndominion, it brings another to subjection, and closes the scene of their\nnational efforts. The celebrated rivalship of Carthage and Rome was, in\nboth parties, the natural exercise of an ambitious spirit, impatient of\nopposition, or even of equality. The conduct and the fortune of leaders\nheld the balance for some time in suspense; but to which ever side it had\ninclined, a great nation was to fall; a seat of empire, and of policy, was\nto be removed from its place; and it was then to be determined, whether the\nSyriac or the Latin should contain the erudition that was, in future ages,\nto occupy the studies of the learned.\n\nStates have been thus conquered from abroad, before they gave any signs of\ninternal decay, even in the midst of prosperity, and in the period of their\ngreatest ardour for national objects. Athens, in the height of her\nambition, and of her glory, received a fatal wound, in striving to extend\nher maritime power beyond the Grecian seas. And nations of every\ndescription, formidable by their rude ferocity, respected for their\ndiscipline and military experience, when advancing, as well as when\ndeclining, in their strength, fell a prey by turns to the ambition and\narrogant spirit of the Romans. Such examples may excite and alarm the\njealousy and caution of states; the presence of similar dangers may\nexercise the talents of politicians and statesmen; but mere reverses of\nfortune are the common materials of history, and must long since have\nceased to create our surprise.\n\nDid we find, that nations advancing from small beginnings, and arrived at\nthe possession of arts which lead to dominion, became secure of their\nadvantages, in proportion as they were qualified to gain them; that they\nproceeded in a course of uninterrupted felicity, till they were broke by\nexternal calamities; and that they retained their force, till a more\nfortunate or vigorous power arose to depress them; the subject in\nspeculation could not be attended with many difficulties, nor give rise to\nmany reflections. But when we observe, among many nations, a kind of\nspontaneous return to obscurity and weakness; when, in spite of perpetual\nadmonitions of the danger they run, they suffer themselves to be subdued,\nin one period, by powers which could not have entered into competition with\nthem in a former, and by forces which they had often baffled and despised,\nthe subject becomes more curious, and its explanation more difficult.\n\n(The fact itself is known in a variety of different examples. The empire of\nAsia was, more than once, transferred from the greater to the inferior\npower. The states of Greece, once so warlike, felt a relaxation of their\nvigour, and yielded the ascendant they had disputed with the monarchs of\nthe east, to the forces of an obscure principality, become formidable in a\nfew years, and raised to eminence under the conduct of a single man. The\nRoman empire, which stood alone for ages, which had brought every rival\nunder subjection, and saw no power from whom a competition could be feared,\nsunk at last before an artless and contemptible enemy. Abandoned to inroad,\nto pillage, and at last to conquest, on her frontier, she decayed in all\nher extremities, and shrunk on every side. Her territory was dismembered,\nand whole provinces gave way, like branches fallen down with age, not\nviolently torn by superior force. The spirit with which Marius had baffled\nand repelled the attacks of barbarians in a former age, the civil and\nmilitary force with which the consul and his legions had extended this\nempire, were now no more. The Roman greatness, doomed to sink as it rose,\nby slow degrees, was impaired in every encounter. It was reduced to its\noriginal dimensions, within the compass of a single city; and depending for\nits preservation on the fortune of a siege, it was extinguished at a blow;\nand the brand, which had filled the world with its flames, sunk like a\ntaper in the socket.\n\nSuch appearances have given rise to a general apprehension, that the\nprogress of societies to what we call the heights of national greatness, is\nnot more natural, than their return to weakness and obscurity is necessary\nand unavoidable. The images of youth, and of old age, are applied to\nnations; and communities, like single men, are supposed to have a period of\nlife, and a length of thread, which is spun by the fates in one part\nuniform and strong, in another weakened and shattered by use; to be cut,\nwhen the destined era is come, and to make way for a renewal of the emblem\nin the case of those who arise in succession. Carthage being so much older\nthan Rome, had felt her decay, says Polybius, so much the sooner; and the\nsurvivor too, he foresaw, carried in her bosom the seeds of mortality.\n\nThe image indeed is apposite, and the history of mankind renders the\napplication familiar. But it must be obvious, that the case of nations, and\nthat of individuals, are very different. The human frame has a general\ncourse: it has in every individual a frail contexture and limited duration;\nit is worn by exercise, and exhausted by a repetition of its functions: but\nin a society, whose constituent members are renewed in every generation,\nwhere the race seems to enjoy perpetual youth, and accumulating advantages,\nwe cannot, by any parity of reason, expect to find imbecilities connected\nwith mere age and length of days.\n\nThe subject is not new, and reflections will crowd upon every reader. The\nnotions, in the mean time, which we entertain, even in speculation, upon a\nsubject so important, cannot be entirely fruitless to mankind; and however\nlittle the labours of the speculative may influence the conduct of men, one\nof the most pardonable errors a writer can commit, is to believe that he is\nabout to do a great deal of good. But, leaving the care of effects to\nothers, we proceed to consider the grounds of inconstancy among mankind,\nthe sources of internal decay, and the ruinous corruptions to which nations\nare liable, in the supposed condition of accomplished civility.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION II.\n\nOF THE TEMPORARY EFFORTS AND RELAXATIONS OF THE NATIONAL SPIRIT.\n\n\nFrom what we have already observed on the general characteristics of human\nnature, it has appeared that man is not made for repose. In him every\namiable and respectable quality, is an active power, and every subject of\ncommendation an effort. If his errors and his crimes are the movements of\nan active being, his virtues and his happiness consist likewise in the\nemployment of his mind; and all the lustre which he casts around him, to\ncaptivate or engage the attention of his fellow creatures, like the flame\nof a meteor, shines only while his motion continues; the moments of rest\nand obscurity are the same. We know, that the tasks assigned him frequently\nmay exceed, as well as come short of, his powers; that he may be agitated\ntoo much, as well as too little; but cannot ascertain a precise medium\nbetween the situations in which he would be harassed, and those in which he\nwould fall into languor. We know that he may be employed on a great variety\nof subjects, which occupy different passions; and that, in consequence of\nhabit, he becomes reconciled to very different scenes. All we can determine\nin general is, that whatever be the subjects with which he is engaged, the\nframe of his nature requires him to be occupied, and his happiness requires\nhim to be just.\n\nWe are now to inquire, why nations cease to be eminent; and why societies\nwhich have drawn the attention of mankind by great examples of magnanimity,\nconduct, and national success, should sink from the height of their\nhonours, and yield, in one age, the palm which they had won in a former.\nMany reasons will probably occur. One may be taken from the fickleness and\ninconstancy of mankind, who become tired of their pursuits and exertions,\neven while the occasions that gave rise to those pursuits; in some measure,\ncontinue; another, from the change of situations, and the removal of\nobjects which served to excite their spirit.\n\nThe public safety, and the relative interests of states; political\nestablishments, the pretensions of party, commerce, and arts, are subjects\nwhich engage the attention of nations. The advantages gained in some of\nthese particulars, determine the degree of national prosperity. The ardour\nand vigour with which they are at any one time pursued, is the measure of a\nnational spirit. When those objects cease to animate, nations may be said\nto languish; when they are during a considerable time neglected, states\nmust decline, and their people degenerate.\n\nIn the most forward, enterprising, inventive, and industrious nations, this\nspirit is fluctuating; and they who continue longest to gain advantages, or\nto preserve them, have periods of remissness, as well as of ardour. The\ndesire of public safety, is, at all times, a powerful motive of conduct;\nbut it operates most when combined with occasional passions, when\nprovocations inflame, when successes encourage, or mortifications\nexasperate.\n\nA whole people, like the individuals of whom they are composed, act under\nthe influence of temporary humours, sanguine hopes, or vehement\nanimosities. They are disposed, at one time, to enter on national struggles\nwith vehemence; at another, to drop them from mere lassitude and disgust.\nIn their civil debates and contentions at home, they are occasionally\nardent or remiss. Epidemical passions arise or subside on trivial as well\nas important grounds. Parties are ready, at one time, to take their names\nand the pretence of their oppositions, from mere caprice or accident; at\nanother time, they suffer the most serious occasions to pass in silence. If\na vein of literary genius be casually opened, or a new subject of\ndisquisition be started, real or pretended discoveries suddenly multiply,\nand every conversation is inquisitive and animated. If a new source of\nwealth be found, or a prospect of conquest be offered, the imaginations of\nmen are inflamed, and whole quarters of the globe are suddenly engaged in\nruinous or in successful adventures.\n\nCould we recall the spirit that was exerted, or enter into the views that\nwere entertained, by our ancestors, when they burst, like a deluge, from\ntheir ancient seats, and poured into the Roman empire, we should probably,\nafter their first success at least, find a ferment in the minds of men, for\nwhich no attempt was too arduous, no difficulties insurmountable.\n\nThe subsequent ages of enterprise in Europe, were those in which the alarm\nof enthusiasm was rung, and the followers of the cross invaded the east, to\nplunder a country, and to recover a sepulchre; those in which the people in\ndifferent states contended for freedom, and assaulted the fabric of civil\nor religious usurpation; that in which, having found means to cross the\nAtlantic, and to double the Cape of Good Hope, the inhabitants of one half\nthe world were let loose on the other, and parties from every quarter,\nwading in blood, and at the expense of every crime, and of every danger,\ntraversed the earth in search of gold.\n\nEven the weak and the remiss are roused to enterprise, by the contagion of\nsuch remarkable ages; and states, which have not in their form the\nprinciples of a continued exertion, either favourable or adverse to the\nwelfare of mankind, may have paroxysms of ardour, and a temporary\nappearance of national vigour. In the case of such nations, indeed, the\nreturns of moderation are but a relapse to obscurity, and the presumption\nof one age is turned to dejection in that which succeeds.\n\nBut in the case of states that are fortunate in, their domestic policy,\neven madness itself may, in the result of violent convulsions, subside into\nwisdom; and a people return to their ordinary mood, cured of their follies,\nand wiser by experience; or, with talents improved, in conducting the very\nscenes which frenzy had opened, they may then appear best qualified to\npursue with success the object of nations. Like the ancient republics,\nimmediately after some alarming sedition, or like the kingdom of Great\nBritain, at the close of its civil wars, they retain the spirit of activity\nwhich was recently awakened, and are equally vigorous in every pursuit,\nwhether of policy, learning, or arts. From having appeared on the brink of\nruin, they pass to the greatest prosperity.)\n\nMen engage in pursuits with degrees of ardour not proportioned to the\nimportance of their object. When they are stated in opposition, or joined\nin confederacy, they only wish for pretences to act. They forget, in the\nheat of their animosities, the subject of their controversy; or they seek,\nin their formal reasonings concerning it, only a disguise for their\npassions. When the heart is inflamed, no consideration can repress its\nardour; when its fervour subsides, no reasoning can excite, and no\neloquence awaken its former emotions.\n\nThe continuance of emulation among states must depend on the degree of\nequality by which their forces are balanced; or on the incentives by which\neither party, or all, are urged to continue their struggles. Long\nintermissions of war, suffer, equally in every period of civil society, the\nmilitary spirit to languish. (The reduction of Athens by Lysander, struck a\nfatal blow at the institutions of Lycurgus; and the quiet possession of\nItaly, happily perhaps for mankind, had almost put an end to the military\nprogress of the Romans. After some years repose, Hannibal found Italy\nunprepared for his onset, and the Romans in a disposition likely to drop,\non the banks of the Po, that martial ambition, which being roused by the\nsense of a new danger, afterwards, carried them to the Euphrates and the\nRhine.)\n\nStates, even distinguished for military prowess, sometimes lay down their\narms from lassitude, and are weary of fruitless contentions; but if they\nmaintain the station of independent communities, they will have frequent\noccasions to recall, and to exert their vigour. Even under popular\ngovernments, men sometimes drop the consideration of their political\nrights, and appear at times remiss or supine; but if they have reserved the\npower to defend themselves, the intermission of its exercise cannot be of\nlong duration. Political rights, when neglected, are always invaded; and\nalarms from this quarter must frequently come to renew the attention of\nparties. The love of learning, and of arts, may change its pursuits, or\ndroop for a season; but while men are possessed of freedom, and while the\nexercises of ingenuity are not superseded, the public may proceed, at\ndifferent times, with unequal fervour; but its progress is seldom\naltogether discontinued, or the advantages gained in one age are seldom\nentirely lost to the following. If we would find the causes of final\ncorruption, we must examine those revolutions of state that remove, or\nwithhold, the objects of every ingenious study or liberal pursuit; that\ndeprive the citizen of occasions to act as the member of a public; that\ncrush his spirit; that debase his sentiments, and disqualify his mind for\naffairs.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION III.\n\nOF RELAXATIONS IN THE NATIONAL SPIRIT INCIDENT TO POLISHED NATIONS.\n\n\nImproving nations, in the course of their advancement, have to struggle\nwith foreign enemies, to whom they bear an extreme animosity, and with\nwhom, in many conflicts, they contend for their existence as a people. In\ncertain periods, too, they feel in their domestic policy inconveniencies\nand grievances, which beget an eager impatience; and they apprehend\nreformations and new establishments, from which they have sanguine hopes of\nnational happiness. In early ages, every art is imperfect, and susceptible\nof many improvements. The first principles of every science are yet secrets\nto be discovered, and to be successively published with applause and\ntriumph.\n\nWe may fancy to ourselves, that in ages of progress, the human race, like\nscouts gone abroad on the discovery of fertile lands, having the world open\nbefore them, are presented at every step with the appearance of novelty.\nThey enter on every new ground with expectation and joy: they engage in\nevery enterprise with the ardour of men, who believe they are going to\narrive at national felicity, and permanent glory; and forget past\ndisappointments amidst the hopes of future success. From mere ignorance,\nrude minds are intoxicated with every passion; and, partial to their own\ncondition, and to their own pursuits, they think that every scene is\ninferior to that in which they are placed. Roused alike by success and by\nmisfortune, they are sanguine, ardent, and precipitant; and leave, to the\nmore knowing ages which succeed them, monuments of imperfect skill, and of\nrude execution of every art; but they leave likewise the marks of a\nvigorous and ardent spirit, which their successors are not always qualified\nto sustain, or to imitate.\n\nThis may be admitted, perhaps, as a fair description of prosperous\nsocieties, at least during certain periods of their progress. The spirit\nwith which they advance may be unequal in different ages, and may have its\nparoxysms and intermissions, arising from the inconstancy of human\npassions, and from the casual appearance or removal of occasions that\nexcite them. But does this spirit, which for a time continues to carry on\nthe project of civil and commercial arts, find a natural pause in the\ntermination of its own pursuits? May the business of civil society be\naccomplished, and may the occasion of farther exertion be removed? Do\ncontinued disappointments reduce sanguine hopes, and familiarity with\nobjects blunt the edge of novelty? Does experience itself cool the ardour\nof the mind? May the society be again compared to the individual? And may\nit be suspected, although the vigour of a nation, like that of a natural\nbody, does not waste by a physical decay, that yet it may sicken for want\nof exercise, and die in the close of its own exertions? May societies, in\nthe completion of all their designs, like men in years, who disregard the\namusements, and are insensible to the passions of youth, become cold and\nindifferent to objects that used to animate in a ruder age? And may a\npolished community be compared to a man who, having executed his plan,\nbuilt his house, and made his settlement; who having, in short, exhausted\nthe charms of every subject, and wasted all his ardour, sinks into languor\nand listless indifference? If so, we have found at least another simile to\nour purpose. But it is probable, that here too the resemblance is\nimperfect; and the inference that would follow, like that of most arguments\ndrawn from analogy, tends rather to amuse the fancy, than to give any real\ninformation on the subject to which it refers.\n\nThe materials of human art are never entirely exhausted, and the\napplications of industry are never at an end. The national ardour is not,\nat any particular time, proportioned to the occasion there is for activity;\nnor the curiosity of the learned to the extent of subject that remains to\nbe studied.\n\nThe ignorant and the artless, to whom objects of science are new, and whose\nmanner of life is most simple, instead of being more active and more\ncurious, are commonly more quiescent, and less inquisitive, than those who\nare best furnished with knowledge and the conveniencies of life. When we\ncompare the particulars which occupy mankind in the beginning and in the\nadvanced age of commercial arts, these particulars will be found greatly\nmultiplied and enlarged in the last. The questions we have put, however,\ndeserve to be answered; and if, in the result of commerce, we do not find\nthe objects of human pursuit removed, or greatly diminished, we may find\nthem at least changed; and in estimating the national spirit, we may find\na negligence in one part, but ill compensated by the growing attention\nwhich is paid to another.\n\nIt is true, in general, that in all our pursuits, there is a termination of\ntrouble, and a point of repose to which we aspire. We would remove this\ninconvenience, or gain that advantage, that our labours may cease. When I\nhave conquered Italy and Sicily, says Pyrrhus, I shall then enjoy my\nrepose. This termination is proposed in our national, as well as in our\npersonal exertions; and, in spite of frequent experience to the contrary,\nis considered, at a distance, as the height of felicity. But nature has\nwisely, in most particulars, baffled our project; and placed no where\nwithin our reach this visionary blessing of absolute ease. The attainment\nof one end is but the beginning of a new pursuit; and the discovery of one\nart is but a prolongation of the thread by which we are conducted to\nfurther inquiries, and while we hope to escape from the labyrinth, are led\nto its most intricate paths.\n\nAmong the occupations that may be enumerated, as tending to exercise the\ninvention, and to cultivate the talents of men, are the pursuits of\naccommodation and wealth, including all the different contrivances which\nserve to increase manufactures, and to perfect the mechanical arts. But it\nmust be owned, that as the materials of commerce may continue to be\naccumulated without any determinate limit, so the arts which are applied to\nimprove them, may admit of perpetual refinements. No measure of fortune, or\ndegree of skill, is found to diminish the supposed necessities of human\nlife; refinement and plenty foster new desires, while they furnish the\nmeans, or practise the methods, to gratify them.\n\nIn the result of commercial arts, inequalities of fortune are greatly\nincreased, and the majority, of every people are obliged by necessity, or\nat least strongly incited by ambition and avarice; to employ every talent\nthey possess. After a history of some thousand years employed in\nmanufacture and commerce, the inhabitants of China are still the most\nlaborious and industrious of any people on earth.\n\nSome part of this observation may be extended to the elegant and literary\narts. They too have their materials which cannot be exhausted, and proceed\nfrom desires which cannot be satiated. But the respect paid to literary\nmerit is fluctuating, and matter of transient fashion. When learned\nproductions accumulate, the acquisition of knowledge occupies the time that\nmight be bestowed on invention. The object of mere learning is attained\nwith moderate or inferior talents, and the growing list of pretenders\ndiminishes the lustre of the few who are eminent. When we only mean to\nlearn what others have taught, it is probable that even our knowledge will\nbe less than that of our masters. Great names continue to be repeated with\nadmiration, after we have ceased to examine the foundations of our praise;\nand new pretenders are rejected, not because they fall short of their\npredecessors, but because they do not excel them; or because in reality we\nhave, without examination, taken for granted the merit of the first, and\ncannot judge of either.\n\nAfter libraries are furnished, and every path of ingenuity is occupied, we\nare, in proportion to our admiration of what is already done, prepossessed\nagainst farther attempts. We become students and admirers, instead of\nrivals; and substitute the knowledge of books, instead of the inquisitive\nor animated spirit in which they were written.\n\nThe commercial and the lucrative arts may continue to prosper, but they\ngain an ascendant at the expense of other pursuits. The desire of profit\nstifles the love of perfection. Interest cools the imagination, and hardens\nthe heart; and, recommending employments in proportion as they are\nlucrative, and certain in their gains, it drives ingenuity, and ambition\nitself, to the counter and the workshop. But, apart from these\nconsiderations, the separation of professions, while it seems to promise\nimprovement of skill, and is actually the cause why the productions of\nevery art become more perfect as commerce advances; yet, in its termination\nand ultimate effects, serves, in some measure, to break the bands of\nsociety, to substitute mere forms and rules of art in place of ingenuity,\nand to withdraw individuals from the common scene of occupation, on which\nthe sentiments of the heart, and the mind, are most happily employed.\n\nUnder the _distinction_ of callings, by which the members of polished\nsociety are separated from each other, every individual is supposed to\npossess his species of talent, or his peculiar skill, in which the others\nare confessedly ignorant; and society is made to consist of parts, of which\nnone is animated with the spirit that ought to prevail in the conduct of\nnations. \"We see in the same persons,\" said Pericles, \"an equal attention\nto private and to public affairs; and in men who have turned to separate\nprofessions, a competent knowledge of what relates to the community; for we\nalone consider those who are inattentive to the state, as perfectly\ninsignificant.\" This encomium on the Athenians was probably offered under\nan apprehension, that the contrary was likely to be charged by their\nenemies, or might soon take place. It happened, accordingly, that the\nbusiness of state, as well as of war, came to be worse administered at\nAthens, when these, as well as other applications, became the object of\nseparate professions; and the history of this people abundantly shewed,\nthat men ceased to be citizens, even to be good poets and orators, in\nproportion as they came to be distinguished by the profession of these, and\nother separate crafts.\n\nAnimals less honoured than we, have sagacity enough to procure their food,\nand to find the means of their solitary pleasures; but it is reserved for\nman to consult, to persuade, to oppose, to kindle in the society of his\nfellow creatures, and to lose the sense of his personal interest or safety,\nin the ardour of his friendships and his oppositions.\n\nWhen we are involved in any of the divisions into which mankind are\nseparated under the denominations of a country, a tribe, or an order of men\nany way affected by common interests, and guided by communicating passions,\nthe mind recognises its natural station; the sentiments of the heart, and\nthe talents of the understanding, find their natural exercise. Wisdom,\nvigilance, fidelity, and fortitude, are the characters requisite in such a\nscene, and the qualities which it tends to improve.\n\nIn simple or barbarous ages, when nations are weak, and beset with enemies,\nthe love of a country, of a party, or a faction, are the same. The public\nis a knot of friends, and its enemies are the rest of mankind. Death, or\nslavery, are the ordinary evils which they are concerned to ward off;\nvictory and dominion, the objects to which they aspire. Under the sense of\nwhat they may suffer from foreign invasions, it is one object, in every\nprosperous society, to increase its force, and to extend its limits. In\nproportion as this object is gained, security increases. They who possess\nthe interior districts, remote from the frontier, are unused to alarms from\nabroad. They who are placed on the extremities, remote from the seats of\ngovernment, are unused to hear of political interests; and the public\nbecomes an object perhaps too extensive for the conceptions of either. They\nenjoy the protection of its laws, or of its armies; and they boast of its\nsplendour, and its power; but the glowing sentiments of public affection,\nwhich, in small states, mingle with the tenderness of the parent and the\nlover, of the friend and the companion, merely by having their object\nenlarged, lose great part of their force.\n\nThe manners of rude nations require to be reformed. Their foreign quarrels,\nand domestic dissentions, are the operations of extreme and sanguinary\npassions. A state of greater tranquillity hath many happy effects. But if\nnations pursue the plan of enlargement and pacification, till their members\ncan no longer apprehend the common ties of society, nor be engaged by\naffection in the cause of their country, they must err on the opposite\nside, and by leaving too little to agitate the spirits of men, bring on\nages of languor, if not of decay.\n\nThe members of a community may, in this manner, like the inhabitants of a\nconquered province, be made to lose the sense of every connection, but that\nof kindred or neighbourhood; and have no common affairs to transact, but\nthose of trade: connections, indeed, or transactions, in which probity and\nfriendship may still take place; but in which the national spirit, whose\nebbs and flows we are now considering, cannot be exerted.\n\nWhat we observe, however, on the tendency of enlargement to loosen the\nbands of political union, cannot be applied to nations who, being\noriginally narrow, never greatly extended their limits; nor to those who,\nin a rude state, had already the extension of a great kingdom.\n\nIn territories of considerable extent, subject to one government, and\npossessed of freedom, the national union, in rude ages, is extremely\nimperfect. Every district forms a separate party; and the descendants of\ndifferent families are opposed to each other, under the denomination of\ntribes or of clans: they are seldom brought to act with a steady concert;\ntheir feuds and animosities give more frequently the appearance of so many\nnations at war, than of a people united by connections of policy. They\nacquire a spirit, however, in their private divisions, and in the midst of\na disorder, otherwise hurtful, of which the force, on many occasions,\nredounds to the power of the state.\n\nWhatever be the national extent, civil order, and regular government, are\nadvantages of the greatest importance; but it does not follow, that every\narrangement made to obtain these ends, and which may, in the making,\nexercise and cultivate the best qualities of men, is therefore of a nature\nto produce permanent effects, and to secure the preservation of that\nnational spirit from which it arose.\n\nWe have reason to dread the political refinements of ordinary men, when we\nconsider that repose, or inaction itself, is in a great measure their\nobject; and that they would frequently model their governments, not merely\nto prevent injustice and error, but to prevent agitation and bustle; and by\nthe barriers they raise against the evil actions of men, would prevent them\nfrom acting at all. Every dispute of a free people, in the opinion of such\npoliticians, amounts to disorder, and a breach of the national peace. What\nheart burnings? What delay to affairs? What want of secrecy and despatch?\nWhat defect of police? Men of superior genius sometimes seem to imagine,\nthat the vulgar have no title to act, or to think. A great prince is\npleased to ridicule the precaution by which judges in a free country are\nconfined to the strict interpretation of law. [Footnote: Memoirs of\nBrandenburg.]\n\nWe easily learn to contract our opinions of what men may, in consistence\nwith public order, be safely permitted to do. The agitations of a republic,\nand the license of its members, strike the subjects of monarchy with\naversion and disgust. The freedom with which the European is left to\ntraverse the streets and the fields, would appear to a Chinese a sure\nprelude to confusion and anarchy. \"Can men behold their superior and not\ntremble? Can they converse without a precise and written ceremonial? What\nhopes of peace, if, the streets are not barricaded at an hour? What wild\ndisorder, if men are permitted in any thing to do what they please?\"\n\nIf the precautions which men thus take against each other, be necessary to\nrepress their crimes, and do not arise from a corrupt ambition, or from\ncruel jealousy in their rulers, the proceeding itself must be applauded, as\nthe best remedy of which the vices of men will admit. The viper must be\nheld at a distance, and the tyger chained. But if a rigorous policy,\napplied to enslave, not to restrain from crimes, has an actual tendency to\ncorrupt the manners, and to extinguish the spirit of nations; if its\nseverities be applied to terminate the agitations of a free people, not to\nremedy their corruptions; if forms be often applauded as salutary, because\nthey tend merely to silence the voice of mankind, or be condemned as\npernicious, because they allow this voice to be heard; we may expect that\nmany of the boasted improvements of civil society, will be mere devices to\nlay the political spirit at rest, and will chain up the active virtues more\nthan the restless disorders of men.\n\nIf to any people it be the avowed object of policy in all its internal\nrefinements, to secure only the person and the property of the subject,\nwithout any regard to his political character, the constitution indeed may\nbe free, but its members may likewise become unworthy of the freedom they\npossess, and unfit to preserve it. The effects of such a constitution may\nbe to immerse all orders of men in their separate pursuits of pleasure,\nwhich they may on this supposition enjoy with little disturbance; or of\ngain, which they may preserve without any attention to the commonwealth.\n\nIf this be the end of political struggles, the design, when executed, in\nsecuring to the individual his estate, and the means of subsistence, may\nput an end to the exercise of those very virtues that were required in\nconducting its execution. A man who, in concert with his fellow subjects,\ncontends with usurpation in defence of his estate or his person, may in\nthat very struggle have found an exertion of great generosity, and of a\nvigorous spirit; but he who, under political establishments, supposed to be\nfully confirmed, betakes him, because he is safe, to the mere enjoyment of\nfortune, has in fact turned to a source of corruption the advantages which\nthe virtues of the other procured. Individuals, in certain ages, derive\ntheir protection chiefly from the strength of the party to which they\nadhere; but in tithes of corruption they flatter themselves; that they may\ncontinue to derive from the public that safety which, in former ages, they\nmust have owed to their own vigilance and spirit, to the warm attachment of\ntheir friends, and to the exercise of every talent which could render them\nrespected, feared, or beloved. In one period, therefore, mere circumstances\nserve to excite the spirit, and to preserve the manners of men; in another,\ngreat wisdom and zeal for the good of mankind on the part of their leaders,\nare required for the same purposes.\n\nRome, it may be thought, did not die of a lethargy, nor perish by the\nremission of her political ardours at home. Her distemper appeared of a\nnature more violent and acute. Yet if the virtues of Cato and of Brutus\nfound an exercise in the dying hour of the republic, the neutrality, and\nthe cautious retirement of Atticus, found its security in the same\ntempestuous season; and the great body of the people lay undisturbed below\nthe current of a storm, by which the superior ranks of men were destroyed.\nIn the minds of the people the sense of a public was defaced; and even the\nanimosity of faction had subsided: they only could share in the commotion,\nwho were the soldiers of a legion, or the partisans of a leader. But this\nstate fell not into obscurity for want of eminent men. If at the time of\nwhich we speak, we look only for a few names distinguished in the history\nof mankind, there is no period at which the list was more numerous. But\nthose names became distinguished in the contest for dominion, not in the\nexercise of equal rights: the people was corrupted; so great an empire\nstood in need of a master.\n\nRepublican governments, in general, are in hazard of ruin from the\nascendant of particular factions, and from the mutinous spirit of a\npopulace, who, being corrupted, are no longer fit to share in the\nadministration of state. But under other establishments, where liberty may\nbe more successfully attained if men are corrupted, the national vigour\ndeclines from the abuse of that very security which is procured by the\nsupposed perfection of public order.\n\nA distribution of power and office; an execution of law, by which mutual\nencroachments and molestations are brought to an end; by which the person\nand the property are, without friends, without cabal, without obligation,\nperfectly secured to individuals, does honour to the genius of a nation;\nand could not have been fully established, without those exertions of\nunderstanding and integrity, those trials of a resolute and vigorous\nspirit, which adorn the annals of a people, and leave to future ages a\nsubject of just admiration and applause. But if we suppose that the end is\nattained, and that men no longer act, in the enjoyment of liberty from\nliberal sentiments, or with a view to the preservation of public manners;\nif individuals think themselves secure without any attention or effort of\ntheir own; this boasted advantage may be found only to give them an\nopportunity of enjoying, at leisure, the conveniencies and necessaries of\nlife; or, in the language of Cato, teach them to value their houses, their\nvillas, their statues, and their pictures, at a higher rate than they do\nthe republic. They may be found to grow tired in secret of a free\nconstitution, of which they never cease to boast in their conversation, and\nwhich they always neglect in their conduct.\n\nThe dangers to liberty are not the subject of our present consideration;\nbut they can never be greater from any cause than they are from the\nsupposed remissness of a people, to whose personal vigour every\nconstitution, as it owed its establishment, so must continue to owe its\npreservation. Nor is this blessing ever less secure than it is in the\npossession of men who think that they enjoy it in safety, and who therefore\nconsider the public only as it presents to their avarice a number of\nlucrative employments; for the sake of which, they may sacrifice those very\nrights which render themselves objects of management or of consideration.\n\nFrom the tendency of these reflections, then, it should appear, that a\nnational spirit is frequently transient, not on account of any incurable\ndistemper in the nature of mankind, but on account of their voluntary\nneglects and corruptions. This spirit subsisted solely, perhaps, in the\nexecution of a few projects, entered into for the acquisition of territory\nor wealth; it comes, like a useless weapon, to be laid aside after its end\nis attained.\n\nOrdinary establishments terminate in a relaxation of vigour, and are\nineffectual to the preservation of states; because they lead mankind to\nrely on their arts, instead of their virtues; and to mistake for an\nimprovement of human nature, a mere accession of accommodation, or of\nriches. [Footnote:\n  Adeo in quae laboramus sola crevimus\n  Divitias luxuriamque.\nLiv. lib. vii. c. 25.] Institutions that fortify the mind, inspire courage,\nand promote national felicity, can never tend to national ruin.\n\nIs it not possible, amidst our admiration of arts, to find some place for\nthese? Let statesmen, who are intrusted with the government of nations,\nreply for themselves. It is their business to shew, whether they climb into\nstations of eminence, merely to display a passion of interest, which they\nhad better indulge in obscurity; and whether they have capacity to\nunderstand the happiness of a people, the conduct of whose affairs they are\nso willing to undertake.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION IV.\n\nTHE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n\nMen frequently, while they are engaged in what is accounted the most\nselfish of all pursuits, the improvement of fortune, then most neglect\nthemselves; and while they reason for their country, forget the\nconsiderations that most deserve their attention. Numbers, riches, and the\nother resources of war, are highly important: but nations consist of men;\nand a nation consisting of degenerate and cowardly men, is weak; a nation\nconsisting of vigorous, public spirited, and resolute men, is strong. The\nresources of war, where other advantages are equal, may decide a contest;\nbut the resources of war, in hands that cannot employ them, are of no\navail.\n\nVirtue is a necessary constituent of national strength: capacity, and a\nvigorous understanding, are no less necessary to sustain the fortune of\nstates. Both are improved by discipline, and by the exercises in which men\nare engaged. We despise, or we pity the lot of mankind, while they lived\nunder uncertain establishments, and were obliged to sustain in the same\nperson, the character of the senator, the statesman, and the soldier.\nCommercial nations discover, that any one of these characters is sufficient\nin one person; and that the ends of each, when disjoined, are more easily\naccomplished. The first, however, were circumstances under which nations\nadvanced and prospered; the second were those in which the spirit relaxed,\nand the nation went to decay.\n\nWe may, with good reason, congratulate our species on their having escaped\nfrom a state of barbarous disorder and violence, into a state of domestic\npeace and regular policy; when they have sheathed the dagger, and disarmed\nthe animosities of civil contention; when the weapons with which they\ncontend are the reasonings of the wise, and the tongue of the eloquent. But\nwe cannot, mean time, help to regret, that they should ever proceed, in\nsearch of perfection, to place every branch of administration behind the\ncounter, and come to employ, instead of the statesman and warrior, the mere\nclerk and accountant.\n\nBy carrying this system to its height, men are educated, who could copy for\nCaesar his military instructions, or even execute a part of his plans; but\nnone who could act in all the different scenes for which the leader himself\nmust be qualified, in the state and in the field, in times of order or of\ntumult, in times of division or of unanimity; none who could animate the\ncouncil when deliberating on domestic affairs, or when alarmed by attacks\nfrom abroad.\n\nThe policy of China is the most perfect model of an arrangement at which\nthe ordinary refinements of government are aimed; and the inhabitants of\nthat empire possess, in the highest degree, those arts on which vulgar\nminds make the felicity and greatness of nations to depend. The state has\nacquired, in a measure unequalled in the history of mankind, numbers of\nmen, and the other resources of war. They have done what we are very apt to\nadmire: they have brought national affairs to the level of the meanest\ncapacity; they have broke them into parts, and thrown them into separate\ndepartments; they have clothed every proceeding with splendid ceremonies,\nand majestical forms; and where the reverence of forms cannot repress\ndisorder, a rigorous and severe police, armed with every species of\ncorporal punishment, is applied to the purpose. The whip, and the cudgel,\nare held up to all orders of men; they are at once employed, and they are\ndreaded, by every magistrate. A mandarine is whipped, for having ordered a\npickpocket to receive too few or too many blows.\n\nEvery department of state is made the object of a separate profession, and\nevery candidate for office must have passed through a regular education;\nand, as in the graduations of the university, must have obtained by his\nproficiency, or his standing, the degree to which he aspires. The tribunals\nof state, of war, and of the revenue, as well as of literature, are\nconducted by graduates in their different studies; but while learning is\nthe great road to preferment, it terminates in being able to read, and to\nwrite; and the great object of government consists in raising, and in\nconsuming the fruits of the earth. With all these resources, and this\nlearned preparation, which is made to turn these resources to use, the\nstate is in reality weak; has repeatedly given the example which we seek to\nexplain; and among the doctors of war or of policy, among the millions who\nare set apart for the military profession, can find none of its members who\nare fit to stand forth in the dangers of their country, or to form a\ndefence against the repeated inroads of an enemy reputed to be artless and\nmean.\n\nIt is difficult to tell how long the decay of states might be suspended, by\nthe cultivation of arts on which their real felicity and strength depend;\nby cultivating in the higher ranks those talents for the council and the\nfield, which cannot, without great disadvantage, be separated; and in the\nbody of a people, that zeal for their country, and that military character,\nwhich enable them to take a share in defending its rights.\n\nTimes may come, when every proprietor must defend his own possessions, and\nevery free people maintain their own independence. We may imagine, that,\nagainst such an extremity, an army of hired troops is a sufficient\nprecaution; but their own troops are the very enemy against which a people\nis sometimes obliged to fight. We may flatter ourselves, that extremities\nof this sort, in any particular case, are remote; but we cannot, in\nreasoning on the general fortunes of mankind, avoid putting the case, and\nreferring to the examples in which it has happened. It has happened in\nevery instance where the polished have fallen a prey to the rude, and where\nthe pacific inhabitant has been reduced to subjection by military force.\n\nIf the defence and government of a people be made to depend on a few, who\nmake the conduct of state or of war their profession; whether these be\nforeigners or natives; whether they be called away of a sudden, like the\nRoman legion from Britain; whether they turn against their employers, like\nthe army of Carthage; or be overpowered and dispersed by a stroke of\nfortune; the multitude of a cowardly and undisciplined people must, upon\nsuch an emergence; receive a foreign or a domestic enemy, as they would a\nplague or an earthquake, with hopeless amazement and terror, and by their\nnumbers, only swell the triumphs, and enrich the spoil of a conqueror.\n\nStatesmen and leaders of armies, accustomed to the mere observance of\nforms, are disconcerted by a suspension of customary rules; and on slight\ngrounds despair of their country. They were qualified only to go the rounds\nof a particular track; and when forced from their stations, are in reality\nunable to act with men. They only took part in formalities, of which they\nunderstood not the tendency; and together with the modes of procedure, even\nthe very state itself, in their apprehension, has ceased to exist. The\nnumbers, possessions, and resources of a great people, only serve, in their\nview, to constitute a scene of hopeless confusion and terror.\n\nIn rude ages, under the appellations of _a community, a people_, or\n_a nation_, was understood a number of men; and the state, while its\nmembers remained, was accounted entire. The Scythians, while they fled\nbefore Darius, mocked at his childish attempt; Athens survived the\ndevastations of Xerxes; and Rome, in its rude state, those of the Gauls.\nWith polished and mercantile states, the case is sometimes reversed. The\nnation is a territory, cultivated and improved by its owners; destroy the\npossession, even while the master remains, the state is undone.\n\nThe weakness and effeminacy of which polished nations are sometimes\naccused, has its place probably in the mind alone. The strength of animals,\nand that of man in particular, depends on his feeding; and the kind of\nlabour to which he is used. Wholesome food, and hard labour, the portion of\nmany in every polished and commercial nation, secure to the public a number\nof men endued with bodily strength, and inured to hardship and toil.\n\nEven delicate living, and good accommodation, are not found to enervate the\nbody. The armies of Europe have been obliged to make the experiment; and\nthe children of opulent families, bred in effeminacy, or nursed with tender\ncare, have been made to contend with the savage. By imitating his arts,\nthey have learned, like him, to traverse the forest; and, in every season,\nto subsist in the desert. They have, perhaps, recovered a lesson, which it\nhas cost civilized nations many ages to unlearn, that the fortune of a man\nis entire while he remains possessed of himself.\n\nIt may be thought, however, that few of the celebrated nations of\nantiquity, whose fate has given rise to so much reflection on the\nvicissitudes of human affairs, had made any great progress in those\nenervating arts we have mentioned; or made those arrangements from which\nthe danger in question could be supposed to arise. The Greeks, in\nparticular, at the time they received the Macedonian yoke, had certainly\nnot carried the commercial arts to so great a height as is common with the\nmost flourishing and prosperous nations of Europe. They had still retained\nthe form of independent republics; the people were generally admitted to a\nshare in the government; and not being able to hire armies, they were\nobliged, by necessity, to bear a part in the defence of their country. By\ntheir frequent wars and domestic commotions, they were accustomed to\ndanger, and were familiar with alarming situations; they were accordingly\nstill accounted the best soldiers and the best statesmen of the known\nworld. The younger Cyrus promised himself the empire of Asia by means of\ntheir aid; and after his fall, a body of ten thousand, although bereft of\ntheir leaders, baffled, in their retreat, all the military force of the\nPersian empire. The victor of Asia did not think himself prepared for that\nconquest, till he had formed an army from the subdued republics of Greece.\n\nIt is, however, true, that in the age of Philip, the military and political\nspirit of those nations appears to have been considerably impaired, and to\nhave suffered, perhaps, from the variety of interests and pursuits, as well\nas of pleasures, with which their members came to be occupied; they even\nmade a kind of separation between the civil and military character.\nPhocion, we are told by Plutarch, having observed that the leading men of\nhis time followed different courses, that some applied themselves to civil,\nothers to military affairs, determined rather to follow the examples of\nThemistocles, Aristides, and Pericles, the leaders of a former age, who\nwere equally prepared for either.\n\nWe find in the orations of Demosthenes, a perpetual reference to this state\nof manners. We find him exhorting the Athenians not only to declare war,\nbut to arm themselves for the execution of their own military plans. We\nfind that there was an order of military men, who easily passed from the\nservice of one state to that of another; and who, when they were neglected\nfrom home, turned away to enterprises on their own account. There were not,\nperhaps, better warriors in any former age; but those warriors were not\nattached to any state; and the settled inhabitants of every city thought\nthemselves disqualified for military service. The discipline of armies was\nperhaps improved; but the vigour of nations was gone to decay. When Philip,\nor Alexander, defeated the Grecian armies, which were chiefly composed of\nsoldiers of fortune, they found an easy conquest with the other\ninhabitants; and when the latter, afterwards supported by those soldiers,\ninvaded the Persian empire, he seems to have left little martial spirit\nbehind him; and by removing the military men, to have taken precaution\nenough, in his absence, to secure his dominion over this mutinous and\nrefractory people.\n\nThe subdivision of arts and professions, in, certain examples, tends to\nimprove the practice of them, and to promote their ends. By having\nseparated the arts of the clothier and the tanner, we are the better\nsupplied with shoes and with cloth. But to separate the arts which form the\ncitizen and the statesman, the arts of policy and war, is an attempt to\ndismember the human character, and to destroy those very arts we mean to\nimprove. By this separation, we in effect deprive a free people of what is\nnecessary to their safety; or we prepare a defence against invasions from\nabroad, which gives a prospect of usurpation, and threatens the\nestablishment of military government at home.\n\nWe may be surprised to find the beginning of certain military instructions\nat Rome, referred to a time no earlier than that of the Cimbric war. It was\nthen, we are told by Valerius Maximus, that Roman soldiers were made to\nlearn from gladiators the use of a sword: and the antagonists of Pyrrhus\nand of Hannibal were, by the account of this writer, still in need of\ninstruction in the first rudiments of their trade. They had already, by the\norder and choice of their encampments, impressed the Grecian invader with\nawe and respect; they had already, not by their victories, but by their\nnational vigour and firmness, under repeated defeats, induced him to sue\nfor peace. But the haughty Roman, perhaps, knew the advantage of order and\nof union, without having been broke to the inferior arts of the mercenary\nsoldier; and had the courage to face the enemies of his country, without\nhaving practised the use of his weapon under the fear of being whipped. He\ncould ill be persuaded that a time might come, when refined and intelligent\nnations would make the art of war to consist in a few technical forms; that\ncitizens and soldiers might come to be distinguished as much as women and\nmen; that the citizen would become possessed of a property which he would\nnot be able, or required, to defend; that the soldier would be appointed to\nkeep for another what he would be taught to desire, and what he alone would\nbe enabled to seize and to keep for himself; that, in short, one set of men\nwere to have an interest in the preservation of civil establishments,\nwithout the power to defend them; that the other were to have this power,\nwithout either the inclination or the interest.\n\nThis people, however, by degrees came to put their military force on the\nvery footing to which this description alludes. Marius made a capital\nchange in the manner of levying soldiers at Rome: he filled his legions\nwith the mean and the indigent, who depended on military pay for\nsubsistence; he created a force which rested on mere discipline alone, and\nthe skill of the gladiator; he taught his troops to employ their swords\nagainst the constitution of their country, and set the example of a\npractice which was soon adopted and improved by his successors.\n\nThe Romans only meant by their armies to encroach on the freedom of other\nnations, while they preserved their own. They forgot, that in assembling\nsoldiers of fortune, and in suffering any leader to be master of a\ndisciplined army, they actually resigned their political rights, and\nsuffered a master to arise for the state. This people, in short, whose\nruling passion was depredation and conquest, perished by the recoil of an\nengine which they themselves had erected against mankind.\n\nThe boasted refinements, then, of the polished age, are not divested of\ndanger. They open a door, perhaps, to disaster, as wide and accessible as\nany of those they have shut. If they build walls and ramparts, they\nenervate the minds of those who are placed to defend them; if they form\ndisciplined armies, they reduce the military spirit of entire nations; and\nby placing the sword where they have given a distaste to civil\nestablishments, they prepare for mankind the government of force.\n\nIt is happy for the nations of Europe, that the disparity between the\nsoldier and the pacific citizen can never be so great as it became among\nthe Greeks and the Romans. In the use of modern arms, the novice is made to\nlearn, and to practise with ease, all that the veteran knows; and if to\nteach him were a matter of real difficulty, happy are they who are not\ndeterred by such difficulties, and who can discover the arts which tend to\nfortify and preserve, not to enervate and ruin their country.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION V.\n\nOF NATIONAL WASTE.\n\n\nThe strength of nations consists in the wealth, the numbers, and the\ncharacter of their people. The history of their progress from a state of\nrudeness, is, for the most part, a detail of the struggles they have\nmaintained, and of the arts they have practised, to strengthen, or to\nsecure themselves. Their conquests, their population, and their commerce,\ntheir civil and military arrangements, their skill in the construction of\nweapons, and in the methods of attack and defence; the very distribution of\ntasks, whether in private business or in public affairs, either tend to\nbestow, or promise to employ with advantage the constituents of a national\nforce, and the resources of war.\n\nIf we suppose that, together with these advantages, the military character\nof a people remains, or is improved, it must follow, that what is gained in\ncivilization, is a real increase of strength; and that the ruin of nations\ncould never take its rise from themselves. Where states have stopped short\nin their progress, or have actually gone to decay, we may suspect, that\nhowever disposed to advance, they have found a limit, beyond which they\ncould not proceed; or from a remission of the national spirit, and a\nweakness of character, were unable to make the most of their resources, and\nnatural advantages. On this supposition, from being stationary, they may\nbegin to relapse, and by a retrograde motion in a succession of ages,\narrive at a state of greater weakness, than that which they quitted in the\nbeginning of their progress; and with the appearance of better arts, and\nsuperior conduct, expose themselves to become a prey to barbarians, whom,\nin the attainment, or the height of their glory, they had easily baffled or\ndespised.\n\nWhatever may be the natural wealth of a people, or whatever may be the\nlimits beyond which they cannot improve on their stock, it is probable,\nthat no nation has ever reached those limits, or has been able to postpone\nits misfortunes, and the effects of misconduct, until its fund of\nmaterials, and the fertility of its soil, were exhausted, or the numbers of\nits people were greatly reduced. The same errors in policy, and weakness of\nmanners, which prevent the proper use of resources, likewise check their\nincrease, or improvement. The wealth of the state consists in the fortune\nof its members. The actual revenue of the state is that share of every\nprivate fortune, which the public has been accustomed to demand for\nnational purposes. This revenue cannot be always proportioned to what may\nbe supposed redundant in the private estate, but to what is, in some\nmeasure, thought so by the owner; and to what he may be made to spare,\nwithout intrenching on his manner of living, and without suspending his\nprojects of expense, or of commerce. It should appear, therefore, that any\nimmoderate increase of private expense is a prelude to national weakness:\ngovernment, even while each of its subjects consumes a princely estate, may\nbe straitened in point of revenue, and the paradox be explained by example,\nthat the public is poor while its members are rich.\n\nWe are frequently led into error by mistaking money for riches; we think\nthat a people cannot be impoverished by a waste of money which is spent\namong themselves. The fact is, that men are impoverished only in two ways;\neither by having their gains suspended, or by having their substance\nconsumed; and money expended at home, being circulated, and not consumed,\ncannot, any more than the exchange of a tally, or a counter, among a\ncertain number of hands, tend to diminish the wealth of the company among\nwhom it is handed about. But while money circulates at home, the\nnecessaries of life, which are the real constituents of wealth, may be idly\nconsumed; the industry which might be employed to increase the stock of a\npeople, may be suspended, or turned to abuse.\n\nGreat armies, maintained either at home or abroad, without any national\nobject, are so many mouths unnecessarily opened to waste the stores of the\npublic, and so many hands withheld from the arts by which its profits are\nmade. Unsuccessful enterprises are so many ventures thrown away, and losses\nsustained, proportioned to the capital employed in the service. The\nHelvetii, in order to invade the Roman province of Gaul, burnt their\nhabitations, dropt their instruments of husbandry, and consumed in one year\nthe savings of many. The enterprise failed of success, and the nation was\nundone.\n\nStates have endeavoured, in some instances, by pawning their credit,\ninstead of employing their capital, to disguise the hazards they ran. They\nhave found, in the loans they raised, a casual resource, which encouraged\ntheir enterprises. They have seemed, by their manner of erecting\ntransferable funds, to leave the capital for purposes of trade, in the\nhands of the subject, while it is actually expended by the government. They\nhave, by these means, proceeded to the execution of great national\nprojects, without suspending private industry, and have left future ages to\nanswer, in part, for debts contracted with a view to future emolument. So\nfar the expedient is plausible, and appears to be just. The growing burden\ntoo, is thus gradually laid; and if a nation be to sink in some future age,\nevery minister hopes it may still keep afloat in his own. But the measure,\nfor this very reason, is, with all its advantages, extremely dangerous, in\nthe hands of a precipitant and ambitious administration, regarding only the\npresent occasion, and imagining a state to be inexhaustible, while a\ncapital can be borrowed, and the interest be paid.\n\nWe are told of a nation who, during a certain period, rivalled the glories\nof the ancient world, threw off the dominion of a master armed against them\nwith the powers of a great kingdom, broke the yoke with which they had been\noppressed, and almost within the course of a century raised, by their\nindustry and national vigour, a new and formidable power, which struck the\nformer potentates of Europe with awe and suspense, and turned the badges of\npoverty with which they set out, into the ensigns of war and dominion. This\nend was attained by the great efforts of a spirit awakened by oppression,\nby a successful pursuit of national wealth, and by a rapid anticipation of\nfuture revenue. But this illustrious state is supposed not only, in the\nlanguage of a former section, to have pre-occupied the business; they have\nsequestered the inheritance of many ages to come.\n\nGreat national expense, however, does not imply the necessity of any\nnational suffering. While revenue is applied with success to obtain some\nvaluable end, the profits of every adventure, being more than sufficient to\nrepay its costs, the public should gain, and its resources should continue\nto multiply. But an expense, whether sustained at home or abroad, whether a\nwaste of the present, or an anticipation of future, revenue, if it bring no\nproper return, is to be reckoned among the causes of national ruin.\n\nAN ESSAY ON THE HISTORY OF CIVIL SOCIETY\n\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPART SIXTH\n\nOF CORRUPTION AND POLITICAL SLAVERY.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nSECTION I.\n\nOF CORRUPTION IN GENERAL.\n\n\nIf the fortune of nations, and their tendency to aggrandizement, or to\nruin, were to be estimated by merely balancing, on the principles of the\nlast section, articles of profit and loss, every argument in politics would\nrest on a comparison of national expense with national gain; on a\ncomparison of the numbers who consume, with those who produce or amass the\nnecessaries of life. The columns of the industrious, and the idle, would\ninclude all orders of men; and the state itself, being allowed as many\nmagistrates, politicians, and warriors, as were barely sufficient for its\ndefence and its government, should place, on the side of its loss, every\nname that is supernumerary on the civil or the military list; all those\norders of men, who, by the possession of fortune, subsist on the gains of\nothers, and by the nicety of their choice, require a great expense of time\nand of labour, to supply their consumption; all those who are idly employed\nin the train of persons of rank; all those who are engaged in the\nprofessions of law, physic, or divinity, together with all the learned who\ndo not, by their studies, promote or improve the practice of some lucrative\ntrade. The value of every person, in short, should be computed from his\nlabour; and that of labour itself, from its tendency to procure and amass\nthe means of subsistence. The arts employed on mere superfluities should be\nprohibited, except when their produce could be exchanged with foreign\nnations, for commodities that might be employed to maintain useful men for\nthe public.\n\nThese appear to be the rules by which a miser would examine the state of\nhis own affairs, or those of his country; but schemes of perfect corruption\nare at least as impracticable as schemes of perfect virtue. Men are not\nuniversally misers; they will not be satisfied with the pleasure of\nhoarding; they must be suffered to enjoy their wealth, in order that they\nmay take the trouble of becoming rich. Property, in the common course of\nhuman affairs, is unequally divided: we are therefore obliged to suffer the\nwealthy to squander, that the poor may subsist: we are obliged to tolerate\ncertain orders of men, who are above the necessity of labour, in order\nthat, in their condition, there may be an object of ambition, and a rank to\nwhich the busy aspire. We are not only obliged to admit numbers, who, in\nstrict economy, may be reckoned superfluous, on the civil, the military,\nand the political list; but because we are men, and prefer the occupation,\nimprovement, and felicity of our nature, to its mere existence, we must\neven wish, that as many members as possible, of every community, may be\nadmitted to a share of its defence and its government.\n\nMen, in fact, while they pursue in society different objects, or separate\nviews, procure a wide distribution of power, and by a species of chance,\narrive at a posture for civil engagements, more favourable to human nature\nthan what human wisdom could ever calmly devise.\n\nIf the strength of a nation, in the mean-time, consists in the men on whom\nit may rely, and who are fortunately or wisely combined for its\npreservation, it follows, that manners are as important as either numbers\nor wealth; and that corruption is to be accounted a principal cause of the\nnational declension and ruin.\n\nWhoever perceives what are the qualities of man in his excellence, may\neasily, by that standard, distinguish his defects or corruptions. If an\nintelligent, a courageous, and an affectionate mind, constitutes the\nperfection of his nature, remarkable failings in any of those particulars\nmust proportionally sink or debase his character.\n\nWe have observed, that it is the happiness of the individual to make a\nright choice of his conduct; that this choice will lead him to lose in\nsociety the sense of a personal interest; and, in the consideration of what\nis due to the whole, to stifle those anxieties which relate to himself as a\npart.\n\nThe natural disposition of man to humanity, and the warmth of his temper,\nmay raise his character to this fortunate pitch. His elevation, in a great\nmeasure, depends on the form of his society; but he can, without incurring\nthe charge of corruption, accommodate himself to great variations in the\nconstitutions of government. The same integrity, and vigorous spirit,\nwhich, in democratical states, renders him tenacious of his equality, may,\nunder aristocracy or monarchy, lead him to maintain the subordinations\nestablished. He may entertain, towards the different ranks of men with whom\nhe is yoked in the state, maxims of respect and of candour: he may, in the\nchoice of his actions, follow a principle of justice and of honour, which\nthe considerations of safety, preferment, or profit, cannot efface.\n\nFrom our complaints of national depravity, it should, notwithstanding,\nappear, that whole bodies of men are sometimes infected with an epidemical\nweakness of the head, or corruption of heart, by which they become unfit\nfor the stations they occupy, and threaten the states they compose, however\nflourishing, with a prospect of decay, and of ruin.\n\nA change of national manners for the worse, may arise from a discontinuance\nof the scenes in which the talents of men were happily cultivated, and\nbrought into exercise; or from a change in the prevailing opinions relating\nto the constituents of honour or of happiness. When mere riches, or court\nfavour, are supposed to constitute rank; the mind is misled from the\nconsideration of qualities on which it ought to rely. Magnanimity, courage,\nand the love of mankind, are sacrificed to avarice and vanity; or\nsuppressed under a sense of dependence. The individual considers his\ncommunity so far only as it can be rendered subservient to his personal\nadvancement or profit: he states himself in competition with his fellow\ncreatures; and, urged by the passions of emulation, of fear and jealousy,\nof envy and malice, he follows the maxims of an animal destined to preserve\nhis separate existence, and to indulge his caprice or his appetite, at the\nexpense of his species.\n\nOn this corrupt foundation, men become either rapacious, deceitful, and\nviolent, ready to trespass on the rights of others; or servile, mercenary,\nand base, prepared to relinquish their own. Talents, capacity, and force of\nmind, possessed by a person of the first description, serve to plunge him\nthe deeper in misery, and to sharpen the agony of cruel passions; which\nlead him to wreak on his fellow creatures the torments that prey on\nhimself. To a person of the second, imagination, and reason itself, only\nserve to point out false objects of fear and desire, and to multiply the\nsubjects of disappointment and of momentary joy. In either case, and\nwhether we suppose that corrupt men are urged by covetousness, or betrayed\nby fear, and without specifying the crimes which from either disposition\nthey are prepared to commit, we may safely affirm, with Socrates, \"That\nevery master should pray he may not meet with such a slave; and every such\nperson, being unfit for liberty, should implore that he may meet with a\nmerciful master.\"\n\nMan, under this measure of corruption, although he may be bought for a\nslave by those who know how to turn his faculties and his labour to profit;\nand although, when kept under proper restraints, his neighbourhood may be\nconvenient or useful; yet is certainly unfit to act on the footing of a\nliberal combination or concert with his fellow creatures: his mind is not\naddicted to friendship or confidence; he is not willing to act for the\npreservation of others, nor deserves that any other should hazard his own\nsafety for his.\n\nThe actual character of mankind, mean time, in the worst as well as the\nbest condition, is undoubtedly mixed: and nations of the best description\nare greatly obliged for their preservation, not only to the good\ndisposition of their members, but likewise to those political institutions,\nby which the violent are restrained from the commission of crimes, and the\ncowardly, or the selfish, are made to contribute their part to the public\ndefence or prosperity. By means of such institutions, and the wise\nprecautions of government, nations are enabled to subsist, and even to\nprosper, under very different degrees of corruption, or of public\nintegrity.\n\nSo long as the majority of a people are supposed to act on maxims of\nprobity, the example of the good, and even the caution of the bad, give a\ngeneral appearance of integrity, and of innocence. Where men are to one\nanother objects of affection and of confidence, where they are generally\ndisposed not to offend, government may be remiss; and every person may be\ntreated as innocent, till he is found to be guilty. As the subject, in this\ncase, does not hear of the crimes, so he need not be told of the\npunishments inflicted on persons of a different character. But where the\nmanners of a people are considerably changed for the worse, every subject\nmust stand on his guard, and government itself must act on suitable maxims\nof fear and distrust. The individual, no longer fit to be indulged in his\npretensions to personal consideration, independence, or freedom, each of\nwhich he would turn to abuse, must be taught, by external force, and from\nmotives of fear, to counterfeit those effects of innocence, and of duty, to\nwhich he is not disposed: he must be referred to the whip, or the gibbet,\nfor arguments in support of a caution, which the state now requires him to\nassume, on a supposition that he is insensible to the motives which\nrecommend the practice of virtue.\n\nThe rules of despotism are made for the government of corrupted men. They\nwere indeed followed on some remarkable occasions, even under the Roman\ncommonwealth; and the bloody axe, to terrify the citizen from his crimes,\nand to repel the casual and temporary irruptions of vice, was repeatedly\ncommitted to the arbitrary will of the dictator. They were finally\nestablished on the ruins of the republic itself, when either the people\nbecame too corrupted for freedom, or when the magistrate became too\ncorrupted to resign his dictatorial power. This species of government comes\nnaturally in the termination of a continued and growing corruption; but\nhas, no doubt, in some instances, come too soon, and has sacrificed remains\nof virtue, that deserved a better fate, to the jealousy of tyrants, who\nwere in haste to augment their power. This method of government cannot, in\nsuch cases, fail to introduce that measure of corruption, against whose\nexternal effects it is desired as a remedy. When fear is suggested as the\nonly motive to duty, every art becomes rapacious or base. And this\nmedicine, if applied to a healthy body, is sure to create the distemper;\nwhich in other cases it is destined to cure.\n\nThis is the manner of government into which the covetous, and the arrogant,\nto satiate their unhappy desires, would hurry their fellow creatures: it is\na manner of government to which the timorous and the servile submit at\ndiscretion; and when these characters of the rapacious and the timid divide\nmankind, even the virtues of Antoninus or Trajan can do no more than apply,\nwith candour and with vigour, the whip and the sword; and endeavour, by the\nhopes of reward, or the fear of punishment, to find a speedy and a\ntemporary cure for the crimes, or the imbecilities of men.\n\nOther states may be more or less corrupted: this has corruption for its\nbasis. Here justice may sometimes direct the arm of the despotical\nsovereign; but the name of justice is most commonly employed to signify the\ninterest or the caprice of a reigning power. Human society, susceptible of\nsuch a variety of forms, here finds the simplest of all. The toils and\npossessions of many are destined to assuage the passions of one or a few;\nand the only parties that remain among, mankind, are the oppressor who\ndemands, and the oppressed who dare not refuse.\n\nNations, while they were entitled to a milder fate, as in the case of the\nGreeks, repeatedly conquered, have been reduced to this condition by\nmilitary force. They have reached it too in the maturity of their own\ndepravations; when, like the Romans, returned from the conquest, and loaded\nwith the spoils of the world, they give loose to faction, and to crimes too\nbold and too frequent for the correction of ordinary government; and when\nthe sword of justice, dropping with blood, and perpetually required to\nsuppress accumulating disorders on every side, could no longer await the\ndelays and precautions of an administration fettered by laws. [Footnote:\nSallust. Bell. Catalinarium.]\n\nIt is, however, well known from the history of mankind, that corruption of\nthis, or of any other degree, is not peculiar to nations in their decline,\nor in the result of signal prosperity, and great advances in the arts of\ncommerce. The bands of society, indeed, in small and infant establishments,\nare generally strong; and their subjects, either by an ardent devotion to\nto their own tribe, or a vehement animosity against enemies, and by a\nvigorous courage founded on both, are well qualified to urge, or to\nsustain, the fortune of a growing community. But the savage and the\nbarbarian have given, notwithstanding, in the case of entire nations, some\nexamples of a weak and timorous character. [Footnote: The barbarous nations\nof Siberia, in general, are servile and timid.] They have, in more\ninstances, fallen into that species of corruption which we have already\ndescribed in treating of barbarous nations; they have made rapine their\ntrade, not merely as a species of warfare, or with a view to enrich their\ncommunity, but to possess, in property, what they learned to prefer even to\nthe ties of affection or of blood.\n\nIn the lowest state of commercial arts, the passions for wealth, and for\ndominion, have exhibited scenes of oppression or servility, which the most\nfinished corruption of the arrogant, the cowardly, and the mercenary,\nfounded on the desire of procuring, or the fear of losing, a fortune, could\nnot exceed. In such cases, the vices of men, unrestrained by forms, and\nunawed by police, are suffered to riot at large, and to produce their\nentire effects. Parties accordingly unite, or separate, on the maxims of a\ngang of robbers; they sacrifice to interest the tenderest affections of\nhuman nature. The parent supplies the market for slaves, even by the sale\nof his own children; the cottage ceases to be a sanctuary for the weak and\nthe defenceless stranger; and the rights of hospitality, often so sacred\namong nations in their primitive state, come to be violated, like every\nother tie of humanity, without fear or remorse. [Footnote: Chardin's\ntravels through Mingrelia into Persia.]\n\nNations which, in later periods of their history, became eminent for civil\nwisdom and justice, had, perhaps, in a former age, paroxysms of lawless\ndisorder, to which this description might in part be applied. The very\npolicy by which they arrived at their degree of national felicity, was\ndevised as a remedy for outrageous abuse. The establishment of order was\ndated from the commission of rapes and murders; indignation, and private\nrevenge, were the principles on which nations proceeded to the expulsion of\ntyrants, to the emancipation of mankind, and the full explanation of their\npolitical rights.\n\nDefects of government and of law may be, in some cases, considered as a\nsymptom of innocence and of virtue. But where power is already established,\nwhere the strong are unwilling to suffer restraint, or the weak unable to\nfind a protection, the defects of law are marks of the most perfect\ncorruption.\n\nAmong rude nations, government is often defective; both because men are not\nyet acquainted with all the evils for which polished nations have\nendeavoured to find a redress; and because, even where evils of the most\nflagrant nature have long afflicted the peace of society, they have not yet\nbeen able to apply the cure. In the progress of civilization, new\ndistempers break forth, and new remedies are applied: but the remedy is\nnot always applied the moment the distemper appears; and laws, though\nsuggested by the commission of crimes, are not the symptom of a recent\ncorruption, but of a desire to find a remedy that may cure, perhaps, some\ninveterate evil which has long afflicted the state.\n\nThere are corruptions, however, under which men still possess the vigour\nand the resolution to correct themselves. Such are the violence and the\noutrage which accompany the collision of fierce and daring spirits,\noccupied in the struggles which sometimes precede the dawn of civil and\ncommercial improvements. In such cases, men have frequently discovered a\nremedy for evils, of which their own misguided impetuosity, and superior\nforce of mind, were the principal causes. But if to a depraved disposition,\nwe suppose to be joined a weakness of spirit; if to an admiration and\ndesire of riches, be joined an aversion to danger or business; if those\norders of men whose valour is required by the public, cease to be brave; if\nthe members of society in general have not those personal qualities which\nare required to fill the stations of equality, or of honour, to which they\nare invited by the forms of the state; they must sink to a depth from which\ntheir imbecility, even more than their depraved inclinations, may prevent\ntheir rise.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION, II\n\nOF LUXURY.\n\n\nWe are far from being agreed on the application of the term _luxury_,\nor on that degree of its meaning which is consistent with national\nprosperity, or with the moral rectitude of our nature. It is sometimes\nemployed to signify a manner of life which we think necessary to\ncivilization, and even to happiness. It is, in our panegyric of polished\nages, the parent of arts, the support of commerce, and the minister of\nnational greatness, and of opulence. It is, in our censure of degenerate\nmanners, the source of corruption, and the presage of national declension\nand ruin. It is admired, and it is blamed; it is treated as ornamental and\nuseful, and it is proscribed as a vice.\n\nWith all this diversity in our judgments, we are generally uniform in\nemploying the term to signify that complicated apparatus which mankind\ndevise for the ease and convenience of life. Their buildings, furniture,\nequipage, clothing, train of domestics, refinement of the table, and, in\ngeneral, all that assemblage which is rather intended to please the fancy,\nthan to obviate real wants, and which is rather ornamental than useful.\n\nWhen we are disposed, therefore, under the appellation of _luxury_, to rank\nthe enjoyment of these things among the vices, we either tacitly refer to\nthe habits of sensuality, debauchery, prodigality, vanity, and arrogance,\nwith which the possession of high fortune is sometimes attended; or we\napprehend a certain measure of what is necessary to human life, beyond\nwhich all enjoyments are supposed to be excessive and vicious. When, on\nthe contrary, luxury is made an article of national lustre and felicity, we\nonly think of it as an innocent consequence of the unequal distribution of\nwealth, and as a method by which different ranks are rendered mutually\ndependent, and mutually useful. The poor are made to practise arts, and\nthe rich to reward them. The public itself is made a gainer by what seems\nto waste its stock, and it receives a perpetual increase of wealth, from\nthe influence of those growing appetites, and delicate tastes, which seem\nto menace consumption and ruin.\n\nIt is certain, that we must either, together with the commercial arts,\nsuffer their fruits to be enjoyed, and even in some measure admired; or,\nlike the Spartans, prohibit the art itself, while we are afraid of its\nconsequences, or while we think that the conveniencies it brings exceed\nwhat nature requires. But we may propose to stop the advancement of arts at\nany stage of their progress, and still incur the censure of luxury from\nthose who are not advanced so far. The housebuilder and the carpenter at\nSparta were limited to the use of the axe and the saw; but a Spartan\ncottage might have passed for a palace in Thrace: and if the dispute were\nto turn on the knowledge of what is physically necessary to the\npreservation of human life, as the standard of what is morally lawful, the\nfaculties of physic, as well as of morality, would probably divide on the\nsubject, and leave every individual, as at present, to find some rule for\nhimself. The casuist, for the most part, considers the practice of his own\nage and condition as a standard for mankind. If in one age or condition he\ncondemn the use of a coach, in another he would have no less censured the\nwearing of shoes; and the very person who exclaims against the first, would\nprobably not have spared the second, if it had not been already familiar in\nages before his own. A censor born in a cottage, and accustomed to sleep\nupon straw, does not propose that men should return to the woods and the\ncaves for shelter; he admits the reasonableness and the utility of what is\nalready familiar; and apprehends an excess and corruption, only in the\nnewest refinement of the rising generation.\n\nThe clergy of Europe have preached successively against every new fashion,\nand every innovation in dress. The modes of youth are a subject of censure\nto the old; and modes of the last age, in their turn, a matter of ridicule\nto the flippant, and the young. Of this there is not always a better\naccount to be given, than that the old are disposed to be severe, and the\nyoung to be merry.\n\nThe argument against many of the conveniencies of life, drawn from the mere\nconsideration of their not being necessary, was equally proper in the mouth\nof the savage, who dissuaded from the first applications of industry, as it\nis in that of the moralist, who insists on the vanity of the last. \"Our\nancestors,\" he might say, \"found their dwelling under this rock; they\ngathered their food in the forest; they allayed their thirst from the\nfountain; and they were clothed in the spoils of the beast they had slain.\nWhy should we indulge a false delicacy, or require from the earth fruits\nwhich she is not accustomed to yield? The bow of our father is already too\nstrong for our arms; and the wild beast begins to lord it in the woods.\"\n\nThus the moralist may have found, in the proceedings of every age, those\ntopics of blame, from which he is so much disposed to arraign the manners\nof his own; and our embarrassment on the subject is, perhaps, but a part of\nthat general perplexity which we undergo, in trying to define moral\ncharacters by external circumstances, which may, or may not, be attended\nwith faults in the mind and the heart. One man finds a vice in the wearing\nof linen; another does not, unless the fabric be fine: and if, meantime, it\nbe true, that a person may be dressed in manufacture either coarse or fine;\nthat he may sleep in the fields, or lodge in a palace; tread upon carpet,\nor plant his foot on the ground; while the mind either retains, or has lost\nits penetration, and its vigour, and the heart its affection to mankind, it\nis vain, under any such circumstance, to seek for the distinctions of\nvirtue and vice, or to tax the polished citizen with weakness for any part\nof his equipage, or for his wearing a fur, in which, perhaps, some savage\nwas dressed before him. Vanity is not distinguished by any peculiar species\nof dress. It is betrayed by the Indian in the fantastic assortments of his\nplumes, his shells, his party coloured furs, and in the time he bestows at\nthe glass and the toilet. Its projects in the woods and in the town are\nthe same: in the one, it seeks, with the visage bedaubed, and with teeth\nartificially stained, for that admiration, which it courts in the other\nwith a gilded equipage, and liveries of state.\n\nPolished nations, in their progress, often come to surpass the rude in\nmoderation, and severity of manners. \"The Greeks,\" says Thucydides, \"not\nlong ago, like barbarians, wore golden spangles in the hair, and went armed\nin times of peace.\" Simplicity of dress in this people, became a mark of\npoliteness: and the mere materials with which the body is nourished or\nclothed, are probably of little consequence to any people. We must look for\nthe characters of men in the qualities of the mind, not in the species of\ntheir food, or in the mode of their apparel. What are now the ornaments of\nthe grave and severe; what is owned to be a real conveniency, were once the\nfopperies of youth, or were devised to please the effeminate. The new\nfashion, indeed, is often the mark of the coxcomb; but we frequently change\nour fashions without multiplying coxcombs, or increasing the measures of\nour vanity and folly.\n\nAre the apprehensions of the severe, therefore, in every age, equally\ngroundless and unreasonable? Are we never to dread any error in the article\nof a refinement bestowed on the means of subsistence, or the conveniencies\nof life? The fact is, that men are perpetually exposed to the commission of\nerror in this article, not merely where they are accustomed to high\nmeasures of accommodation, or to any particular species of food, but\nwherever these objects, in general, may come to be preferred to their\ncharacter, to their country, or to mankind; they actually commit such\nerror, wherever they admire paltry distinctions or frivolous advantages;\nwherever they shrink from small inconveniencies, and are incapable of\ndischarging their duty with vigour. The use of morality on this subject, is\nnot to limit men to any particular species of lodging, diet, or clothes;\nbut to prevent their considering these conveniencies as the principal\nobjects of human life. And if we are asked, where the pursuit of trifling\naccommodations should stop, in order that a man may devote himself entirely\nto the higher engagements of life? we may answer, that it should stop where\nit is. This was the rule followed at Sparta: the object of the rule was, to\npreserve the heart entire for the public, and to occupy men in cultivating\ntheir own nature, not in accumulating wealth, and external conveniencies.\nIt was not expected otherwise, that the axe or the saw should be attended\nwith greater political advantage, than the plane and the chisel. When Cato\nwalked the streets of Rome without his robe, and without shoes, he did so,\nmost probably, in contempt of what his countrymen were so prone to admire;\nnot in hopes of finding a virtue in one species of dress, or a vice in\nanother.\n\nLuxury, therefore, considered as a predilection in favour of the objects of\nvanity, and the costly materials of pleasure, is ruinous to the human\ncharacter; considered as the mere use of accommodations and conveniencies\nwhich the age has procured, rather depends on the progress which the\nmechanical arts have made, and on the degree in which the fortunes of men\nare unequally parcelled, than on the dispositions of particular men either\nto vice or to virtue.\n\nDifferent measures of luxury are, however, variously suited to different\nconstitutions of government. The advancement of arts supposes an unequal\ndistribution of fortune; and the means of distinction they bring, serve to\nrender the separation of ranks more sensible. Luxury is, upon this account,\napart from all its moral effects, adverse to the form of democratical\ngovernment; and, in any state of society, can be safely admitted in that\ndegree only in which the members of a community are supposed of unequal\nrank, and constitute public order by the relations of superior and vassal.\nHigh degrees of it appear salutary, and even necessary, in monarchical and\nmixed governments; where, besides the encouragement to arts and commerce,\nit serves to give lustre to those hereditary or constitutional dignities\nwhich have a place of importance in the political system. Whether even here\nluxury leads to abuse peculiar to ages of high refinement and opulence, we\nshall proceed to consider in the following sections.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION III.\n\nOF THE CORRUPTION INCIDENT TO POLISHED NATIONS.\n\n\nLuxury and corruption are frequently coupled together, and even pass for\nsynonymous terms. But, in order to avoid any dispute about words, by the\nfirst we may understand that accumulation of wealth, and that refinement on\nthe ways of enjoying it, which are the objects of industry, or the fruits\nof mechanic and commercial arts: and by the second a real weakness, or\ndepravity of the human character, which may accompany any state of those\narts, and be found under any external circumstances or condition\nwhatsoever. It remains to inquire, what are the corruptions incident to\npolished nations, arrived at certain measures of luxury, and possessed of\ncertain advantages, in which they are generally supposed to excel?\n\nWe need not have recourse to a parallel between the manners of entire\nnations, in the extremes of civilization and rudeness, in order to be\nsatisfied, that the vices of men are not proportioned to their fortunes; or\nthat the habits of avarice, or of sensuality, are not founded on any\ncertain measures of wealth, or determinate kind of enjoyment. Where the\nsituations of particular men are varied as much by their personal stations,\nas they can be by the state of national refinements, the same passions for\ninterest, or pleasure, prevail in every condition. They arise from\ntemperament, or an acquired admiration of property; not from any particular\nmanner of life in which the parties are engaged, nor from any particular\nspecies of property which may have occupied their cares and their wishes.\n\nTemperance and moderation are, at least, as frequent among those whom we\ncall the superior, as they are among the lower classes of men; and however\nwe may affix the character of sobriety to mere cheapness of diet, and other\naccommodations with which any particular age, or rank of men, appear to be\ncontented, it is well known, that costly materials are not necessary to\nconstitute a debauch, nor profligacy less frequent under the thatched roof,\nthan under the lofty ceiling. Men grow equally familiar with different\nconditions, receive equal pleasure, and are equally allured to sensuality\nin the palace and in the cave. Their acquiring in either, habits of\nintemperance or sloth, depends on the remission of other pursuits, and on\nthe distaste of the mind to other engagements. If the affections of the\nheart be awake, and the passions of love, admiration, or anger, be kindled,\nthe costly furniture of the palace, as well as the homely accommodations of\nthe cottage, are neglected: and men, when roused, reject their repose; or,\nwhen fatigued, embrace it alike on the silken bed, or on the couch of\nstraw.\n\nWe are not, however, from hence to conclude, that luxury, with all its\nconcomitant circumstances, which either serve to favour its increase, or\nwhich, in the arrangements of civil society, follow it as consequences, can\nhave no effect to the disadvantage of national manners. If that respite\nfrom public dangers and troubles which gives a leisure for the practice of\ncommercial arts, be continued, or increased, into a disuse of national\nefforts; if the individual, not called to unite with his country, be left\nto pursue his private advantage; we may find him become effeminate,\nmercenary, and sensual; not because pleasures and profits are become more\nalluring, but because he has fewer calls to attend to other objects; and\nbecause he has more encouragement to study his personal advantages, and\npursue his separate interests.\n\nIf the disparities of rank and fortune, which are necessary to the pursuit\nor enjoyment of luxury, introduce false grounds of precedency and\nestimation; if, on the mere considerations of being rich or poor, one order\nof men are, in their own apprehension, elevated, another debased; if one be\ncriminally proud, another meanly dejected; and every rank in its place,\nlike the tyrant, who thinks that nations are made for himself, be disposed\nto assume on the rights of mankind: although, upon the comparison, the\nhigher order may be least corrupted; or from education, and a sense of\npersonal dignity, have most good qualities remaining; yet the one becoming\nmercenary and servile; the other imperious and arrogant; both regardless of\njustice and of merit; the whole mass is corrupted, and the manners of a\nsociety changed for the worse, in proportion as its members cease to act on\nprinciples of equality, independence, or freedom.\n\nUpon this view, and considering the merits of men in the abstract, a mere\nchange from the habits of a republic to those of a monarchy; from the love\nof equality, to the sense of a subordination founded on birth, titles, and\nfortune, is a species of corruption to mankind. But this degree of\ncorruption is still consistent with the safety and prosperity of some\nnations; it admits of a vigorous courage, by which the rights of\nindividuals, and of kingdoms, may be long preserved.\n\nUnder the form of monarchy, while yet in its vigour, superior fortune is,\nindeed, one mark by which the different orders of men are distinguished;\nbut there are some other ingredients, without which wealth is not admitted\nas a foundation of precedency, and in favour of which it is often despised,\nand lavished away. Such are birth and titles, the reputation of courage,\ncourtly manners, and a certain elevation of mind. If we suppose that these\ndistinctions are forgotten, and nobility itself only to be known by the\nsumptuous retinue which money alone may procure; and by a lavish expense,\nwhich the more recent fortunes can generally best sustain; luxury must then\nbe allowed to corrupt the monarchical as much as the republican state, and\nto introduce a fatal dissolution of manners, under which men of every\ncondition, although they are eager to acquire, or to display their wealth,\nhave no remains of real ambition. They have neither the elevation of\nnobles, nor the fidelity of subjects; they have changed into effeminate\nvanity, that sense of honour which gave rules to the personal courage; and\ninto a servile baseness that loyalty, which bound each in his place to his\nimmediate superior, and the whole to the throne.\n\nNations are most exposed to corruption from this quarter, when the\nmechanical arts, being greatly advanced, furnish numberless articles to be\napplied in ornament to the person, in furniture, entertainment, or\nequipage; when such articles as the rich alone can procure are admired; and\nwhen consideration, precedence, and rank, are accordingly made to depend on\nfortune.\n\nIn a more rude state of the arts, although wealth be unequally divided, the\nopulent can amass only the simple means of subsistence: they can only fill\nthe granary, and furnish the stall; reap from more extended fields, and\ndrive their herds over a larger pasture. To enjoy their magnificence, they\nmust live in a crowd; and to secure their possessions, they must be\nsurrounded with friends that espouse their quarrels. Their honours, as well\nas their safety, consist in the numbers who attend them; and their personal\ndistinctions are taken from their liberality, and supposed elevation of\nmind. In this manner, the possession of riches serves only to make the\nowner assume a character of magnanimity, to become the guardian of numbers,\nor the public object of respect and affection. But when the bulky\nconstituents of wealth, and of rustic magnificence, can be exchanged for\nrefinements; and when the produce of the soil may be turned into equipage,\nand mere decoration; when the combination of many is no longer required for\npersonal safety; the master may become the sole consumer of his own estate:\nhe may refer the use of every subject to himself; he may employ the\nmaterials of generosity to feed a personal vanity, or to indulge a sickly\nand effeminate fancy, which has learned to enumerate the trappings of\nweakness or folly among the necessaries of life.\n\nThe Persian satrape, we are told, when he saw the king of Sparta at the\nplace of their conference stretched on the grass with his soldiers, blushed\nat the provision he made for the accommodation of his own person; he\nordered the furs and the carpets to be withdrawn; he felt his own\ninferiority; and recollected, that he was to treat with a man, not to vie\nwith a pageant in costly attire and magnificence.\n\nWhen, amid circumstances that make no trial of the virtues or talents of\nmen, we have been accustomed to the air of superiority which people of\nfortune derive from their retinue, we are apt to lose every sense of\ndistinction arising from merit, or even from abilities. We rate our fellow\ncitizens by the figure they are able to make; by their buildings, their\ndress, their equipage, and the train of their followers. All these\ncircumstances make a part in our estimate of what is excellent; and if the\nmaster himself is known to be a pageant in the midst of his fortune, we\nnevertheless pay our court to his station, and look up with an envious,\nservile, or dejected mind, to what is, in itself, scarcely fit to amuse\nchildren; though, when it is worn as a badge of distinction, it inflames\nthe ambition of those we call the great, and strikes the multitude with awe\nand respect.\n\nWe judge of entire nations by the productions of a few mechanical arts, and\nthink we are talking of men, while we are boasting of their estates, their\ndress, and their palaces. The sense in which we apply the terms,\n_great_, and _noble, high rank_, and _high life_, show that we have,\non such occasions, transferred the idea of perfection from the character\nto the equipage; and that excellence itself is, in our esteem, a\nmere pageant, adorned at a great expense by the labours of many workmen.\n\nTo those who overlook the subtile transitions of the imagination, it might\nappear, since wealth can do no more than furnish the means of subsistence,\nand purchase animal pleasures, that covetousness, and venality itself,\nshould keep pace with our fears of want, or with our appetite for sensual\nenjoyments; and that where the appetite is satiated, and the fear of want\nis removed, the mind should be at ease on the subject of fortune. But they\nare not the mere pleasures that riches procure, nor the choice of viands\nwhich cover the board of the wealthy, that inflame the passions of the\ncovetous and the mercenary. Nature is easily satisfied in all her\nenjoyments. It is an opinion of eminence, connected with fortune; it is a\nsense of debasement attending on poverty, which renders us blind to every\nadvantage, but that of the rich; and insensible to every disgrace, but that\nof the poor. It is this unhappy apprehension, that occasionally prepares us\nfor the desertion of every duty, for a submission to every indignity, and\nfor the commission of every crime that can be accomplished in safety.\n\nAurengzebe was not more renowned for sobriety in his private station, and\nin the conduct of a supposed dissimulation, by which he aspired to\nsovereign power, than he continued to be, even on the throne of Indostan.\nSimple, abstinent, and severe in his diet, and other pleasures, he still\nled the life of a hermit, and occupied his time with a seemingly painful\napplication to the affairs of a great empire. [Footnote: Gemelli Careri.]\nHe quitted a station in which, if pleasure had been his object, he might\nhave indulged his sensuality without reserve; he made his way to a scene of\ndisquietude and care; he aimed at the summit of human greatness, in the\npossession of imperial fortune, not at the gratifications of animal\nappetite, or the enjoyment of ease. Superior to sensual pleasure, as well\nas to the feelings of nature, he dethroned his father, and he murdered his\nbrothers, that he might roll on a carriage incrusted with diamond and\npearl; that his elephants, his camels, and his horses, on the march, might\nform a line extending many leagues; might present a glittering harness to\nthe sun; and loaded with treasure, usher to the view of an abject and\nadmiring crowd that awful majesty, in whose presence they were to strike\nthe forehead on the ground, and be overwhelmed with the sense of his\ngreatness, and with that of their own debasement.\n\nAs these are the objects which prompt the desire of dominion, and excite\nthe ambitious to aim at the mastery of their fellow creatures; so they\ninspire the ordinary race of men with a sense of infirmity and meanness,\nthat prepares them to suffer indignities, and to become the property of\npersons, whom they consider as of a rank and a nature so much superior to\ntheir own. The chains of perpetual slavery, accordingly, appear to be\nriveted in the east, no less by the pageantry which is made to accompany\nthe possession of power, than they are by the fears of the sword, and the\nterrors of a military execution. In the west, as well as the east, we are\nwilling to bow to the splendid equipage, and stand at an awful distance\nfrom the pomp of a princely estate. We too may be terrified by the frowns,\nor won by the smiles, of those whose favour is riches and honour, and whose\ndispleasure is poverty and neglect. We too may overlook the honours of the\nhuman soul, from an admiration of the pageantries that accompany fortune.\nThe procession of elephants harnessed with gold might dazzle into slaves,\nthe people who derive corruption and weakness from the effect of their own\narts and contrivances, as well as those who inherit servility from their\nancestors, and are enfeebled by their natural temperament, and the\nenervating charms of their soil and their climate.\n\nIt appears, therefore, that although the mere use of materials which\nconstitute luxury, may be distinguished from actual vice; yet nations under\na high state of the commercial arts, are exposed to corruption, by their\nadmitting wealth, unsupported by personal elevation and virtue, as the\ngreat foundation of distinction, and by having their attention turned on\nthe side of interest, as the road to consideration and honour.\n\nWith this effect, luxury may serve to corrupt democratical states, by\nintroducing a species of monarchical subordination, without that sense of\nhigh birth and hereditary honours which render the boundaries of rank fixed\nand determinate, and which teach men to act in their stations with force\nand propriety. It may prove the occasion of political corruption, even in\nmonarchical governments, by drawing respect towards mere wealth; by casting\na shade on the lustre of personal qualities, or family distinctions; and by\ninfecting all orders of men, with equal venality, servility, and cowardice.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION IV.\n\nThe Same Subject Continued.\n\n\nThe increasing regard with which men appear, in the progress of commercial\narts, to study their profit, or the delicacy with which they refine on\ntheir pleasures; even industry itself, or the habit of application to a\ntedious employment, in which no honours are won, may, perhaps, be\nconsidered as indications of a growing attention to interest, or of\neffeminacy, contracted in the enjoyment of ease and conveniency. Every\nsuccessive art, by which the individual is taught to improve on his\nfortune, is, in reality, an addition to his private engagements, and a new\navocation of his mind from the public.\n\nCorruption, however, does not arise from the abuse of commercial arts\nalone; it requires the aid of political situation; and is not produced by\nthe objects that occupy a sordid and a mercenary spirit, without the aid of\ncircumstances that enable men to indulge in safety any mean disposition\nthey have acquired.\n\nProvidence has fitted mankind for the higher engagements which they are\nsometimes obliged to fulfil; and it is in the midst of such engagements\nthat they are most likely to acquire or to preserve their virtues. The\nhabits of a vigorous mind are formed in contending with difficulties, not\nin enjoying the repose of a pacific station; penetration and wisdom are the\nfruits of experience, not the lessons of retirement and leisure; ardour and\ngenerosity are the qualities of a mind roused and animated in the conduct\nof scenes that engage the heart, not the gifts of reflection or knowledge.\nThe mere intermission of national and political efforts is,\nnotwithstanding, sometimes mistaken for public good; and there is no\nmistake more likely to foster the vices, or to flatter the weakness, of\nfeeble and interested men.\n\nIf the ordinary arts of policy, or rather if a growing indifference to\nobjects of a public nature, should prevail, and, under any free\nconstitution, put an end to those disputes of party, and silence that noise\nof dissention which generally accompany the exercise of freedom, we may\nventure to prognosticate corruption to the national manners, as well as\nremissness to the national spirit. The period is come, when no engagement,\nremaining on the part of the public, private interest, and animal pleasure,\nbecome the sovereign objects of care. When men, being relieved from the\npressure of great occasions, bestow their attention on trifles; and having\ncarried what they are pleased to call _sensibility_ and _delicacy_, on\nthe subject of ease or molestation, as far as real weakness or folly can\ngo, have recourse to affectation, in order to enhance the pretended\ndemands, and accumulate the anxieties, of a sickly fancy, and enfeebled\nmind.\n\nIn this condition, mankind generally flatter their own imbecility under the\nname of _politeness_. They are persuaded, that the celebrated ardour,\ngenerosity, and fortitude of former ages bordered on frenzy, or were the\nmere effects of necessity, on men who had not the means of enjoying their\nease, or their pleasure. They congratulate themselves on having escaped the\nstorm which required the exercise of such arduous virtues; and with that\nvanity which accompanies the human race in their meanest condition, they\nboast of a scene of affectation, of languor, or of folly, as the standard\nof human felicity, and as furnishing the properest exercise of a rational\nnature.\n\nIt is none of the least menacing symptoms of an age prone to degeneracy,\nthat the minds of men become perplexed in the discernment of merit, as much\nas the spirit becomes enfeebled in conduct, and the heart misled in the\nchoice of its objects: The care of mere fortune is supposed to constitute\nwisdom; retirement from public affairs, and real indifference to mankind,\nreceive the applauses of moderation, and of virtue.\n\nGreat fortitude, and elevation of mind, have not always, indeed, been\nemployed in the attainment of valuable ends; but they are always\nrespectable, and they are always necessary when we would act for the good\nof mankind, in any of the more arduous stations of life. While, therefore,\nwe blame their misapplication, we should beware of depreciating their\nvalue. Men of a severe and sententious morality have not always\nsufficiently observed this caution; nor have they been duly aware of the\ncorruptions they flattered, by the satire they employed against what is\naspiring and prominent in the character of the human soul.\n\nIt might have been expected, that, in an age of hopeless debasement, the\ntalents of Demosthenes and Tully, even the ill governed magnanimity of a\nMacedonian, or the daring enterprise of a Carthaginian leader, might have\nescaped the acrimony of a satirist, [Footnote: Juvenal's tenth satire] who\nhad so many objects of correction in his view, and who possessed the arts\nof declamation in so high a degree.\n\n  I, demens, et saevos curre per Alpes,\n  Ut pueris placeas, et declamatio fias,\n\nis part of the illiberal censure which is thrown by this poet on the person\nand action of a leader, who, by his courage and conduct, in the very\nservice to which the satire referred, had well nigh saved his country from\nthe ruin with which it was at last at last overwhelmed.\n\n  Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed,\n  From Macedonia's madman to the Swede,\n\nis a distich, in which another poet of beautiful talents has attempted to\ndepreciate a name, to which, probably, few of his readers are found to\naspire.\n\nIf men must go wrong, there is a choice of their errors, as well as of\ntheir virtues. Ambition, the love of personal eminence, and the desire of\nfame, although they sometimes lead to the commission of crimes, yet always\nengage men in pursuits that require to be supported by some of the greatest\nqualities of the human soul; and if eminence is the principal object of\npursuit, there is at least a probability, that those qualities may be\nstudied on which a real elevation of mind is raised. But when public alarms\nhave ceased, and contempt of glory is recommended as an article of wisdom,\nthe sordid habits, and mercenary dispositions, to which, under a general\nindifference to national objects, the members of a polished or commercial\nstate are exposed, must prove at once the most effectual suppression of\nevery liberal sentiment, and the most fatal reverse of all those principles\nfrom which communities derive their strength and their hopes of\npreservation.\n\nIt is noble to possess happiness and independence, either in retirement, or\nin public life. The characteristic of the happy, is to acquit themselves\nwell in every condition; in the court, or in the village; in the senate, or\nin the private retreat. But if they affect any particular station, it is\nsurely that in which their actions may be rendered most extensively useful.\nOur considering mere retirement, therefore, as a symptom of moderation and\nof virtue, is either a remnant of that system, under which monks and\nanchorets, in former ages, have been canonized; or proceeds from a habit of\nthinking, which appears equally fraught with moral corruption, from our\nconsidering public life as a scene for the gratification of mere vanity,\navarice, and ambition; never as furnishing the best opportunity for a just\nand a happy engagement of the mind and the heart.\n\nEmulation, and the desire of power, are but sorry motives to public\nconduct; but if they have been, in any case, the principal inducements from\nwhich men have taken part in the service of their country, any diminution\nof their prevalence or force is a real corruption of national manners; and\nthe pretended moderation assumed by the higher orders of men, has a fatal\neffect in the state. The disinterested love of the public is a principle,\nwithout which some constitutions of government cannot subsist: but when we\nconsider how seldom this has appeared a reigning passion, we have little\nreason to impute the prosperity or preservation of nations, in every case,\nto its influence.\n\nIt is sufficient, perhaps, under one form of government, that men should be\nfond of their independence; that they should be ready to oppose usurpation,\nand to repel personal indignities: under another, it is sufficient, that\nthey should be tenacious of their rank, and of their honours; and instead\nof a zeal for the public, entertain a vigilant jealousy of the rights which\npertain to themselves. When numbers of men retain a certain degree of\nelevation and fortitude, they are qualified to give a mutual check to their\nseveral errors, and are able to act in that variety of situations which the\ndifferent constitutions of government have prepared for their members: but,\nunder the disadvantages of a feeble spirit, however directed, and however\ninformed, no national constitution is safe; nor can any degree of\nenlargement, to which a state has arrived, secure its political welfare.\n\nIn states where property, distinction, and pleasure, are thrown out as\nbaits to the imagination, and incentives to passion, the public seems to\nrely for the preservation of its political life, on the degree of emulation\nand jealousy with which parties mutually oppose and restrain each other.\nThe desires of preferment and profit in the breast of the citizen, are the\nmotives from which he excited to enter on public affairs, and are the\nconsiderations which direct his political conduct. The suppression,\ntherefore, of ambition, of party animosity, and of public envy, is\nprobably, in every such case, not a reformation, but a symptom of weakness,\nand a prelude to more sordid pursuits, and ruinous amusements.\n\nOn the eve of such a revolution in manners, the higher ranks, in every\nmixed or monarchical government, have need to take care of themselves. Men\nof business, and of industry, in the inferior stations of life, retain\ntheir occupations, and are secured, by a kind of necessity, in the\npossession of those habits on which they rely for their quiet; and for the\nmoderate enjoyments of life. But the higher orders of men, if they\nrelinquish the state, if they cease to possess that courage and elevation\nof mind, and to exercise those talents which are employed in its defence\nand in its government, are, in reality, by the seeming advantages of their\nstation, become the refuse of that society of which they once were the\nornament; and from being the most respectable, and the most happy, of its\nmembers, are become the most wretched and corrupt. In their approach to\nthis condition, and in the absence of every manly occupation, they feel a\ndissatisfaction and languor which they cannot explain: they pine in the\nmidst of apparent enjoyment; or, by the variety and caprice of their\ndifferent pursuits and amusements, exhibit a state of agitation, which,\nlike the disquiet of sickness, is not a proof of enjoyment or pleasure, but\nof suffering and pain. The care of his buildings, his equipage, or his\ntable, is chosen by one; literary amusement, or some frivolous study, by\nanother. The sports of the country, and the diversions of the town; the\ngaming table, [Footnote: These different occupations differ from each\nother, in respect to their dignity and their innocence; but none of them\nare the schools from which men are brought to sustain the tottering fortune\nof nations; they are equally avocations from what ought to be the principal\npursuit of man, the good of mankind.] dogs, horses, and wine, are employed\nto fill up the blank of a listless and unprofitable life. They speak of\nhuman pursuits, as if the whole difficulty were to find something to do;\nthey fix on some frivolous occupation, as if there was nothing that\ndeserved to be done: they consider what tends to the good of their fellow\ncreatures, as a disadvantage to themselves: they fly from every scene in\nwhich any efforts of vigour are required, or in which they might be allured\nto perform any service to their country. We misapply our compassion in\npitying the poor; it were much more justly applied to the rich, who become\nthe first victims of that wretched insignificance, into which the members\nof every corrupted state, by the tendency of their weaknesses and their\nvices, are in haste to plunge themselves.\n\nIt is in this condition, that the sensual invent all those refinements on\npleasure, and devise those incentives to a satiated appetite, which tend\nto foster the corruptions of a dissolute age. The effects of brutal\nappetite, and the mere debauch, are more flagrant, and more violent,\nperhaps, in rude ages, than they are in the later periods of commerce and\nluxury: but that perpetual habit of searching for animal pleasure where it\nis not to be found, in the gratifications of an appetite that is cloyed,\nand among the ruins of an animal constitution, is not more fatal to the\nvirtues of the soul, than it is even to the enjoyment of sloth, or of\npleasure; it is not a more certain avocation from public affairs, or a\nsurer prelude to national decay, than it is a disappointment to our hopes\nof private felicity.\n\nIn these reflections, it has been the object not to ascertain a precise\nmeasure to which corruption has risen in any of the nations that have\nattained to eminence, or that have gone to decay; but to describe that\nremissness of spirit, that weakness of soul, that state of national\ndebility, which is likely to end in political slavery; an evil which\nremains to be considered as the last object of caution, and beyond which\nthere is no subject of disquisition, in the perishing fortunes of nations.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION V.\n\nOF CORRUPTION, AS IT TENDS TO POLITICAL SLAVERY.\n\n\nLiberty, in one sense, appears to be the portion of polished nations alone.\nThe savage is personally free, because he lives unrestrained, and acts with\nthe members of his tribe on terms of equality. The barbarian is frequently\nindependent, from a continuance of the same circumstances, or because he\nhas courage and a sword. But good policy alone can provide for the regular\nadministration of justice, or constitute a force in the state, which is\nready on every occasion to defend the rights of its members.\n\nIt has been found, that, except in a few singular cases, the commercial and\npolitical arts have advanced together. These arts have been in modern\nEurope so interwoven, that we cannot determine which were prior in the\norder of time, or derived most advantage from the mutual influences with\nwhich they act and react on each other. It has been observed, that in some\nnations, the spirit of commerce, intent on securing its profits, has led\nthe way to political wisdom. A people, possessed of wealth, and become\njealous of their properties, have formed the project of emancipation, and\nhave proceeded, under favour of an importance recently gained, still\nfarther to enlarge their pretensions, and to dispute the prerogatives which\ntheir sovereign had been in use to employ. But it is in vain that we expect\nin one age, from the possession of wealth, the fruit which it is said to\nhave borne in a former. Great accessions of fortune, when recent, when\naccompanied with frugality, and a sense of independence, may render the\nowner confident in his strength, and ready to spurn at oppression. The\npurse which is open, not to personal expense, or to the indulgence of\nvanity, but to support the interests of a faction, to gratify the higher\npassions of party, render the wealthy citizen formidable to those who\npretend to dominion; but it does not follow, that in a time of corruption,\nequal, or greater, measures of wealth, should operate to the same effect.\n\nOn the contrary, when wealth is accumulated only in the hands of the miser,\nand runs to waste from those of the prodigal; when heirs of family find\nthemselves straitened and poor in the midst of affluence; when the cravings\nof luxury silence even the voice of party and faction; when the hopes of\nmeriting the rewards of compliance, or the fear of losing what is held at\ndiscretion, keep men in a state of suspense and anxiety; when fortune, in\nshort, instead of being considered as the instrument of a vigorous spirit,\nbecomes the idol of a covetous or a profuse, of a rapacious or a timorous\nmind, the foundation on which freedom was built may serve to support a\ntyranny; and what, in one age, raised the pretensions, and fostered the\nconfidence of the subject, may, in another, incline him to servility, and\nfurnish the price to be paid for his prostitutions. Even those who, in a\nvigorous age, gave the example of wealth, in the hands of the people,\nbecoming an occasion of freedom, may, in times of degeneracy, verify\nlikewise the maxim of Tacitus, that the admiration of riches leads to\ndespotical government. [Footnote: Est \u00e1pud illos et opibus honos;\neoque unus imperitat, nullis jam exceptionibus, non precario jure\nparendi. Nec arms ut apud ceteros Germanos in promiscuo, sed clausa\nsub custode et quidem servo, &c. TACITUS _de Mor. Ger._ c.44.]\n\nMen who have tasted of freedom, and who have felt their personal rights,\nare not easily taught to bear with encroachments on either, and cannot,\nwithout some preparation, come to submit to oppression. They may receive\nthis unhappy preparation under different forms of government, from\ndifferent hands, and arrive at the same end by different ways. They\nfollow one direction in republics, another in monarchies and in\nmixed governments. But wherever the state has, by means that do not\npreserve the virtue of the subject, effectually guarded his safety;\nremissness, and neglect of the public, are likely to follow; and polished\nnations of every description, appear to encounter a danger, on this\nquarter, proportioned to the degree in, which they have, during any\ncontinuance, enjoyed the uninterrupted possession of peace and prosperity.\n\nLiberty results, we say, from the government of laws; and we are apt to\nconsider statutes, not merely as the resolutions and maxims of a people\ndetermined to be free, not as the writings by which their rights are kept\non record; but as a power erected to guard them, and as a barrier which the\ncaprice of man cannot transgress.\n\nWhen a basha, in Asia, pretends to decide every controversy by the rules of\nnatural equity, we allow that he is possessed of discretionary powers. When\na judge in Europe is left to decide, according to his own interpretation of\nwritten laws, is he in any sense more restrained than the former? Have the\nmultiplied words of a statute an influence over the conscience and the\nheart, more powerful than that of reason and nature? Does the party, in any\njudicial proceeding, enjoy a less degree of safety, when his rights are\ndiscussed, on the foundation of a rule that is open to the understandings\nof mankind, than when they are referred to an intricate system, which it\nhas become the object of a separate profession to study and to explain?\n\nIf forms of proceeding, written statutes, or other constituents of law,\ncease to be enforced by the very spirit from which they arose; they serve\nonly to cover, not to restrain, the iniquities of power: they are possibly\nrespected even by the corrupt magistrate, when they favour his purpose; but\nthey are contemned or evaded, when they stand in his way: and the influence\nof laws, where they have any real effect in the preservation of liberty, is\nnot any magic power descending from shelves that are loaded with books, but\nis, in reality, the influence of men resolved to be free; of men who,\nhaving adjusted in writing the terms on which they are to live with the\nstate, and with their fellow subjects, are determined, by their vigilance\nand spirit, to make these terms be fulfilled.\n\nWe are taught, under every form of government, to apprehend usurpations,\nfrom the abuse, or from the extension of the executive power. In pure\nmonarchies, this power is commonly hereditary, and made to descend in a\ndeterminate line. In elective monarchies, it is held for life. In\nrepublics, it is exercised during a limited time. Where men, or families,\nare called by election to the possession of temporary dignities, it is more\nthe object of ambition to perpetuate, than to extend their powers. In\nhereditary monarchies, the sovereignty is already perpetual; and the aim of\nevery ambitious prince is to enlarge his prerogative. Republics, and, in\ntimes of commotion, communities of every form, are exposed to hazard, not\nfrom those only who are formally raised to places of, trust, but from every\nperson whatsoever, who is incited by ambition, and who is supported by\nfaction.\n\nIt is no advantage to a prince, or other magistrate, to enjoy more power\nthan is consistent with the good of mankind; nor is it of any benefit to a\nman to be unjust: but these maxims are a feeble security against the\npassions and follies of men. Those who are intrusted with power in any\ndegree, are disposed, from a mere dislike of constraint, to remove\nopposition. Not only the monarch who wears a hereditary crown, but the\nmagistrate who holds his office for a limited time, grows fond of his\ndignity. The, very minister, who depends for his place on the momentary\nwill of his prince, and whose personal interests are, in every respect,\nthose of a subject, still has the weakness to take an interest in the\ngrowth of prerogative, and to reckon as gain to himself the encroachments\nhe has made on the rights of a people, with whom he himself and his family\nare soon to be numbered.\n\nEven with the best intentions towards mankind, we are inclined to think\nthat their welfare depends, not on the felicity of their own inclinations,\nor the happy employment of their own talents, but on their ready compliance\nwith what we have devised for their good. Accordingly, the greatest virtue\nof which any sovereign has hitherto shown an example, is not a desire of\ncherishing in his people the spirit of freedom and of independence, but\nwhat is in itself sufficiently rare and highly meritorious, a steady regard\nto the distribution of justice in matters of property, a disposition to\nprotect and to oblige, to redress the grievances, and to promote the\ninterest of his subjects. It was from a reference to these objects, that\nTitus computed the value of his time, and judged of its application. But\nthe sword, which in this beneficent hand was drawn to protect the subject,\nand to procure a speedy and effectual distribution of justice, was likewise\nsufficient, in the hands of a tyrant, to shed the blood of the innocent,\nand to cancel the rights of men. The temporary proceedings of humanity,\nthough they suspended the exercise of oppression, did not break the\nnational chains: the prince was even the better enabled to procure that\nspecies of good which he studied; because there was no freedom remaining,\nand because there was nowhere a force to dispute his decrees, or to\ninterrupt their execution.\n\nWas it in vain that Antoninus became acquainted with the characters of\nThrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dion, and Brutus? Was it in vain, that he\nlearned to understand the form of a free community, raised on the basis of\nequality and justice; or of a monarchy, under which the liberties of the\nsubject were held the most sacred object of administration?[Footnote: M.\nAntoninus, lib. I.] Did he mistake the means of procuring to mankind what\nhe points out as a blessing? Or did the absolute power with which he was\nfurnished, in a mighty empire, only disable him from executing what his\nmind had perceived as a national good? In such a case, it were vain to\nflatter the monarch or his people. The first cannot bestow liberty without\nraising a spirit, which may, on occasion, stand in opposition to his own\ndesigns; nor the latter receive this blessing, while they own that it is\nin the right of a master to give or to withhold it. The claim of justice\nis firm and peremptory. We receive favours with a sense of obligation and\nkindness; but we would enforce our rights, and the spirit of freedom in\nthis exertion cannot take the tone of supplication or of thankfulness,\nwithout betraying itself. \"You have intreated Octavius,\" says Brutus to\nCicero, \"that he would spare those who stand foremost among the citizens\nof Rome. What if he will not? Must we perish? Yes; rather than owe our\nsafety to him.\"\n\nLiberty is a right which every individual must be ready to vindicate for\nhimself, and which he who pretends to bestow as a favour, has by that very\nact in reality denied. Even political establishments, though they appear to\nbe independent of the will and arbitration of men, cannot be relied on for\nthe preservation of freedom; they may nourish, but should not supersede\nthat firm and resolute spirit, with which the liberal mind is always\nprepared to resist indignities, and to refer its safety to itself.\n\nWere a nation, therefore, given to be moulded by a sovereign, as the clay\nis put into the hands of the potter, this project of bestowing liberty on a\npeople who are actually servile, is, perhaps, of all others the most\ndifficult, and requires most to be executed in silence, and with the\ndeepest reserve. Men are qualified to receive this blessing only in\nproportion as they are made to apprehend their own rights; and are made to\nrespect the just pretensions of mankind; in proportion as they are willing\nto sustain, in their own persons, the burden of government, and of national\ndefence; and are willing to prefer the engagements of a liberal mind to the\nenjoyment of sloth, or the delusive hopes of a safety purchased by\nsubmission and fear.\n\nI speak with respect, and, if I may be allowed the expression, even with\nindulgence, to those who are intrusted with high prerogatives in the\npolitical system of nations. It is, indeed, seldom their fault that states\nare enslaved. What should be expected from them, but that being actuated by\nhuman desires, they should be averse to disappointment, or even to delay;\nand in the ardour with which they pursue their object, that they should\nbreak through the barriers that would stop their career? If millions recede\nbefore single men, and senates are passive, as if composed of members who\nhad no opinion or sense of their own; on whose side have the defences of\nfreedom given way, or to whom shall we impute their fall? To the subject,\nwho has deserted his station; or to the sovereign, who has only remained in\nhis own, and who, if the collateral or subordinate members of government\nshall cease to question his power, must continue to govern without\nrestraint?\n\nIt is well known, that constitutions framed for the preservation of\nliberty, must consist of many parts; and that senates, popular assemblies,\ncourts of justice, magistrates of different orders, must combine to balance\neach other, while they exercise, sustain, or check the executive power. If\nany part is struck out, the fabric must totter, or fall; if any member is\nremiss, the others must encroach. In assemblies constituted by men of\ndifferent talents, habits, and apprehensions, it were something more than\nhuman that could make them agree in every point of importance; having\ndifferent opinions and views, it were want of integrity to abstain from\ndisputes: our very praise of unanimity, therefore, is to be considered as a\ndanger to liberty. We wish for it at the hazard of taking in its place the\nremissness of men grown indifferent to the public; the venality of those\nwho have sold the rights of their country; or the servility of others, who\ngive implicit obedience to a leader, by whom their minds are subdued. The\nlove of the public, and respect to its laws, are the points in which\nmankind are bound to agree; but if, in matters of controversy, the sense of\nany individual or party is invariably pursued, the cause of freedom is\nalready betrayed.\n\nHe whose office it is to govern a supine or an abject people, cannot, for a\nmoment, cease to extend his powers. Every execution of law, every movement\nof the state, every civil and military operation, in which his power is\nexerted, must serve to confirm his authority, and present him to the view\nof the public as the sole object of consideration, fear, and respect. Those\nvery establishments which were devised, in one age, to limit or to direct\nthe exercise of an executive power, will serve, in another, to remove\nobstructions, and to smooth its way; they will point out the channels in\nwhich it may run, without giving offence, or without exciting alarms, and\nthe very councils which were instituted to check its encroachments, will,\nin a time of corruption, furnish an aid to its usurpations.\n\nThe passion for independence, and the love of dominion, frequently arise\nfrom a common source: there is, in both, an aversion to control; and he\nwho, in one situation, cannot brook a superior, may, in another, dislike to\nbe joined with an equal.\n\nWhat the prince, under a pure or limited monarchy, is, by the constitution\nof his country, the leader of a faction would willingly become in\nrepublican governments. If he attains to this envied condition, his own\ninclination, or the tendency of human affairs, seem to open before him the\ncareer of a royal ambition: but the circumstances in which he is destined\nto act, are very different from those of a king. He encounters with men who\nare unused to disparity; he is obliged, for his own security, to hold the\ndagger continually unsheathed. When he hopes to be safe, he possibly means\nto be just; but is hurried, from the first moment of his usurpation, into\nevery exercise of despotical power. The heir of a crown has no such quarrel\nto maintain with his subjects: his situation is flattering; and the heart\nmust be uncommonly bad that does not glow with affection to a people, who\nare at once his admirers, his support, and the ornaments of this reign. In\nhim, perhaps, there is no explicit design of trespassing on the rights of\nhis subjects; but the forms intended to preserve their freedom are not, on\nthis account, always safe in his hands.\n\nSlavery has been imposed upon mankind in the wantonness of a depraved\nambition, and tyrannical cruelties have been committed in the gloomy hours\nof jealousy and terror; yet these demons are not necessary to the creation,\nor to the support of an arbitrary power. Although no policy was ever more\nsuccessful than that of the Roman republic in maintaining a national\nfortune; yet subjects, as well as their princes, frequently imagine that\nfreedom is a clog on the proceedings of government: they imagine, that\ndespotical power is best fitted to procure despatch and secrecy in the\nexecution of public councils; to maintain what they are pleased to call\n_political order_, [Footnote: Our notion of order in civil society\nbeing taken from the analogy of subjects inanimate and dead, is frequently\nfalse; we consider commotion and action as contrary to its nature; we think\nthat obedience, secrecy, and the silent passing of affairs through the\nhands of a few, are its real constituents. The good order of stones in a\nwall, is their being properly fixed in the places for which they are hewn;\nwere they to stir, the building must fall: but the good order of men in\nsociety, is their being placed where they are properly qualified to act.\nThe first is a fabric made of dead and inanimate parts, the second is made\nof living and active members. When we seek in society for the order of mere\ninaction and tranquillity, we forget the nature of our subject, and find\nthe order of slaves, not that of freemen.] and to give a speedy redress of\ncomplaints. They even sometimes acknowledge, that if a succession of good\nprinces could be found, despotical government is best calculated for the\nhappiness of mankind. While they reason thus, they cannot blame a\nsovereign, who, in the confidence that he is to employ his power for good\npurposes, endeavours to extend its limits; and, in his own apprehension,\nstrives only to shake off the restraints which stand in the way of reason,\nand which prevent the effect of his friendly intentions.\n\nThus prepared for usurpation, let him, at the head of a free state, employ\nthe force with which he is armed, to crush the seeds of apparent disorder\nin every corner of his dominions; let him effectually curb the spirit of\ndissention and variance among his people; let him remove the interruptions\nto government, arising from the refractory humours and the private\ninterests of his subjects: let him collect the force of the state against\nits enemies, by availing himself of all it can furnish in the way of\ntaxation and personal service: it is extremely probable that, even under\nthe direction of wishes for the good of mankind, he may break through every\nbarrier of liberty, and establish a despotism, while he flatters himself\nthat he only follows the dictates of sense and propriety.\n\nWhen we suppose government to have bestowed a degree of tranquillity which\nwe sometimes hope to reap from it, as the best of its fruits, and public\naffairs to proceed, in the several departments of legislation and\nexecution, with the least possible interruption to commerce and lucrative\narts; such a state, like that of China, by throwing affairs into separate\noffices, where conduct consists in detail, and in the observance of forms,\nby superseding all the exertions of a great or a liberal mind, is more akin\nto despotism than we are apt to imagine.\n\nWhether oppression, injustice, and cruelty, are the only evils which attend\non despotical government, may be considered apart. In the mean time it is\nsufficient to observe, that liberty is never in greater danger than it is\nwhen we measure national felicity by the blessings which a prince may\nbestow, or by the mere tranquillity which may attend on equitable\nadministration. The sovereign may dazzle with his heroic qualities; he may\nprotect his subjects in the enjoyment of every animal advantage or\npleasure: but the benefits arising from liberty are of a different sort;\nthey are not the fruits of a virtue, and of a goodness, which operate in\nthe breast of one man, but the communication of virtue itself to many; and\nsuch a distribution of functions in civil society, as gives to numbers the\nexercises and occupations which pertain to their nature.\n\nThe best constitutions of government are attended with inconvenience; and\nthe exercise of liberty may, on many occasions, give rise to complaints.\nWhen we are intent on reforming abuses, the abuses of freedom may lead us\nto encroach on the subject from which they are supposed to arise. Despotism\nitself has certain advantages, or at least, in times of civility and\nmoderation, may proceed with so little offence, as to give no public alarm.\nThese circumstances may lead mankind, in the very spirit of reformation, or\nby mere inattention, to apply or to admit of dangerous innovations in the\nstate of their policy.\n\nSlavery, however, is not always introduced by mistake; it is sometimes\nimposed in the spirit of violence and rapine. Princes become corrupt as\nwell as their people; and whatever may have been the origin of despotical\ngovernment, its pretensions, when fully declared, give rise between the\nsovereign and his subjects to a contest which force alone can decide. These\npretensions have a dangerous aspect to the person, the property, or the\nlife of every subject; they alarm every passion in the human breast; they\ndisturb the supine; they deprive the venal of his hire; they declare war on\nthe corrupt as well as the virtuous; they are tamely admitted only by the\ncoward; but even to him must be supported by a force that can work on his\nfears. This force the conqueror brings from abroad; and the domestic\nusurper endeavours to find in his faction at home.\n\nWhen a people is accustomed to arms, it is, difficult for a part to subdue\nthe whole; or before the establishment of disciplined armies, it is\ndifficult for any usurper to govern the many by the help of a few. These\ndifficulties, however, the policy of civilized and commercial nations has\nsometimes removed; and by forming a distinction between civil and military\nprofessions, by committing the keeping and the enjoyment of liberty to\ndifferent hands, has prepared the way for the dangerous alliance of faction\nwith military power, in opposition to mere political forms and the rights\nof mankind.\n\nA people who are disarmed in compliance with this fatal refinement, have\nrested their safety on the pleadings of reason and of justice at the\ntribunal of ambition and of force. In such an extremity laws are quoted and\nsenators are assembled in vain. They who compose a legislature, or who\noccupy the civil departments of state, may deliberate on the messages they\nreceive from the camp or the court; but if the bearer, like the centurion\nwho brought the petition of Octavius to the Roman senate, shew the hilt of\nhis sword, [Footnote: Sueton.] they find that petitions are become\ncommands, and that they themselves are become the pageants, not the\nrepositories of sovereign power.\n\nThe reflections of this section may be unequally applied to nations of\nunequal extent. Small communities, however corrupted, are not prepared for\ndespotical government; their members, crowded together and contiguous to\nthe seats of power, never forget their relation to the public; they pry,\nwith habits of familiarity and freedom, into the pretensions of those who\nwould rule; and where the love of equality, and the sense of justice, have\nfailed, they act on motives of faction, emulation, and envy. The exiled\nTarquin had his adherents at Rome; but if by their means he had recovered\nhis station, it is probable that, in the exercise of his royalty, he must\nhave entered on a new scene of contention with the very party that restored\nhim to power.\n\nIn proportion as territory is extended, its parts lose their relative\nimportance to the whole. Its inhabitants cease to perceive their connection\nwith the state, and are seldom united in the execution of any national, or\neven any factious designs. Distance from the seats of administration, and\nindifference to the persons who contend for preferment, teach the majority\nto consider themselves as the subjects of a sovereignty, not as the members\nof a political body. It is even remarkable, that enlargement of territory,\nby rendering the individual of less consequence to the public, and less\nable to intrude with his counsel, actually tends to reduce national affairs\nwithin a narrower compass, as well as to diminish the numbers who are\nconsulted in legislation, or in other matters of government.\n\nThe disorders to which a great empire is exposed, require speedy\nprevention, vigilance, and quick execution. Distant provinces must be kept\nin subjection by military force; and the dictatorial powers, which, in free\nstates, are sometimes raised to quell insurrections, or to oppose other\noccasional evils, appear, under a certain extent of dominion, at all times\nequally necessary to suspend the dissolution of a body, whose parts were\nassembled, and must be cemented, by measures forcible, decisive, and\nsecret. Among the circumstances, therefore, which, in the event of national\nprosperity, and in the result of commercial arts, lead to the establishment\nof despotism, there is none, perhaps, that arrives at this termination with\nso sure an aim, as the perpetual enlargement of territory. In every state,\nthe freedom of its members depends on the balance and adjustment of its\ninterior parts; and the existence of any such freedom among mankind,\ndepends on the balance of nations. In the progress of conquest, those who\nare subdued are said to have lost their liberties; but from the history of\nmankind, to conquer, or to be conquered, has appeared, in effect, the same.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION VI.\n\nOF THE PROGRESS AND TERMINATION OF DESPOTISM.\n\n\nMankind, when they degenerate, and tend to their ruin, as well as when they\nimprove, and gain real advantages, frequently proceed by slow, and almost\ninsensible steps. If, during ages of activity and vigour, they fill up the\nmeasure of national greatness to a height which no human wisdom could at a\ndistance foresee; they actually incur, in ages of relaxation and weakness,\nmany evils which their fears did not suggest, and which, perhaps, they had\nthought far removed by the tide of success and prosperity.\n\nWe have already observed, that where men are remiss or corrupted, the\nvirtue of their leaders, or the good intention of their magistrates, will\nnot always secure them in the possession of political freedom. Implicit\nsubmission to any leader, or the uncontrolled exercise of any power, even\nwhen it is intended to operate for the good of mankind, may frequently end\nin the subversion of legal establishments. This fatal revolution, by\nwhatever means it is accomplished, terminates in military government; and\nthis, though the simplest of all governments, is rendered complete by\ndegrees. In the first period of its exercise over men who have acted as\nmembers of a free community, it can have only laid the foundation, not\ncompleted the fabric, of a despotical policy. The usurper who has\npossessed, with an army, the centre of a great empire, sees around him,\nperhaps, the shattered remains of a former constitution; he may hear the\nmurmurs of a reluctant and unwilling submission; he may even see danger in\nthe aspect of many, from whose hands he may have wrested the sword, but\nwhose minds he has not subdued, nor reconciled to his power.\n\nThe sense of personal rights, or the pretension to privilege and honours,\nwhich remain among certain orders of men, are so many bars in the way of a\nrecent usurpation. If they are not suffered to decay with age, and to wear\naway in the progress of a growing corruption, they must be broken with\nviolence, and the entrance to every new accession of power must be stained\nwith blood. The effect, even in this case, is frequently tardy. The Roman\nspirit, we know, was not entirely extinguished under a succession of\nmasters, and under a repeated application of bloodshed and poison. The\nnoble and respectable family still aspired to its original honours; the\nhistory of the republic, the writings of former times, the monuments of\nillustrious men, and the lessons of philosophy fraught with heroic\nconceptions, continued to nourish the soul in retirement, and formed those\neminent characters, whose elevation, and whose fate, are, perhaps, the most\naffecting subjects of human story. Though unable to oppose the general bent\nto servility, they became, on account of their supposed inclinations,\nobjects of distrust and aversion, and were made to pay with their blood,\nthe price of a sentiment which they fostered in silence, and which glowed\nonly in the heart.\n\nWhile despotism proceeds in its progress, by what principle is the\nsovereign conducted in the choice of measures that tend to establish his\ngovernment? By a mistaken apprehension of his own good, sometimes even that\nof his people, and by the desire which he feels on every particular\noccasion, to remove the obstructions which impede the execution of his\nwill. When he has fixed a resolution, whoever reasons or remonstrates\nagainst it is an enemy; when his mind is elated, whoever pretends to\neminence, and is disposed to act for himself, is a rival. He would leave no\ndignity in the state, but what is dependent on himself; no active power,\nbut what carries the expression of his momentary pleasure. [Footnote:\nInsurgere paulatim munia senatus, magistratuum, legum in se trahere.]\nGuided by a perception as unerring as that of instinct, he never fails to\nselect the proper objects of his antipathy or of his favour. The aspect of\nindependence repels him; that of servility attracts. The tendency of his\nadministration is to quiet every restless spirit, and to assume every\nfunction of government to himself. [Footnote: It is ridiculous to hear men\nof a restless ambition, who would be the only actors in every scene,\nsometimes complain of a refractory spirit in mankind: as if the same\ndisposition, from which they desire to usurp every office, did not incline\nevery other person to reason and to act at least for himself.] When the\npower is adequate to the end, it operates as much in the hands of those who\ndo not perceive the termination, as it does in the hands of others by whom\nit is best understood: the mandates of either, when just, should not be\ndisputed; when erroneous or wrong, they are supported by force.\n\nYou must die, was the answer of Octavius to every suit from a people that\nimplored his mercy. It was the sentence which some of his successors\npronounced against every citizen that was eminent for his birth or his\nvirtues. But are the evils of despotism confined to the cruel and\nsanguinary methods, by which a recent dominion over a refractory and a\nturbulent people is established or maintained? And is death the greatest\ncalamity which can afflict mankind under an establishment by which they are\ndivested of all their rights? They are, indeed, frequently suffered to\nlive; but distrust and jealousy, the sense of personal meanness, and the\nanxieties which arise from the care of a wretched interest, are made to\npossess the soul; every citizen is reduced to a slave; and every charm by\nwhich the community engaged its members, has ceased to exist. Obedience is\nthe only duty that remains, and this is exacted by force. If, under such an\nestablishment, it be necessary to witness scenes of debasement and horror,\nat the hazard of catching the infection, death becomes a relief; and the\nlibation which Thrasea was made to pour from his arteries, is to be\nconsidered as a proper sacrifice of gratitude to Jove the Deliverer.\n[Footnote: Porrectisque utriusque brachii venis, postquam cruorem effudit,\nhumum super spargens, proprius vocato Quaestore, _Libemus_, inquit,\n_Jovi Liberatori_. Specta juvenis; et omen quidem Dii prohibeant;\nceterum in ea tempora natus es, quibus firmare animum deceat constantibus\nexemplis. _Tacit. Ann. lib._ 16.]\n\nOppression and cruelty are not always necessary to despotical government;\nand even when present, are but a part of its evils. It is founded on\ncorruption, and on the suppression of all the civil and the political\nvirtues; it requires its subjects to act from motives of fear; it would\nassuage the passions of a few men at the expense of mankind; and would\nerect the peace of society itself on the ruins of that freedom and\nconfidence from which alone the enjoyment, the force, and the elevation of\nthe human mind, are found to arise.\n\nDuring the existence of any free constitution, and whilst every individual\npossessed his rank and his privilege, or had his apprehension of personal\nrights, the members of every community were, to one another, objects of\nconsideration and of respect; every point to be carried in civil society\nrequired the exercise of talents, of wisdom, persuasion, and vigour, as\nwell as of power. But it is the highest refinement of a despotical\ngovernment, to rule by simple commands, and to exclude every art but that\nof compulsion. Under the influence of this policy, therefore, the occasions\nwhich employed and cultivated the understandings of men, which awakened\ntheir sentiments, and kindled their imaginations, are gradually removed;\nand the progress by which mankind attained to the honours of their nature,\nin being engaged to act in society upon a liberal footing, was not more\nuniform, or less interrupted, than that by which they degenerate in this\nunhappy condition.\n\nWhen we hear of the silence which reigns in the seraglio, we are made to\nbelieve, that speech itself is become unnecessary; and that the signs of\nthe mute are sufficient to carry the most important mandates of government.\nNo arts, indeed, are required to maintain an ascendant where terror alone\nis opposed to force, where the powers of the sovereign are delegated entire\nto every subordinate officer: nor can any station bestow a liberality of\nmind in a scene of silence and dejection, where every breast is possessed\nwith jealousy and caution, and where no object, but animal pleasure,\nremains to balance the sufferings of the sovereign himself, or those of his\nsubjects.\n\nIn other states, the talents of men are sometimes improved by the exercises\nwhich belong to an eminent station; but here the master himself is probably\nthe rudest and least cultivated animal of the herd; he is inferior to the\nslave whom he raises from a servile office to the first places of trust or\nof dignity in his court. The primitive simplicity which formed ties of\nfamiliarity and affection betwixt the sovereign and the keeper of his\nherds, [Footnote: See Odyssey.] appears, in the absence of all affections,\nto be restored, or to be counterfeited amidst the ignorance and brutality\nwhich equally characterize all orders of men, or rather which level the\nranks, and destroy the distinction of persons in a despotical court.\n\nCaprice and passion are the rules of government with the prince. Every\ndelegate of power is left to act by the same direction; to strike when he\nis provoked; to favour when he is pleased. In what relates to revenue,\njurisdiction, or police, every governor of a province acts like a leader in\nan enemy's country; comes armed with the terrors of fire and sword; and\ninstead of a tax, levies a contribution by force he ruins or spares as\neither may serve his purpose. When the clamours of the oppressed, or the\nreputation of a treasure amassed at the expense of a province, have reached\nthe ears of the sovereign, the extortioner is indeed made to purchase\nimpunity by imparting a share, or by forfeiting the whole of his spoil; but\nno reparation is made to the injured; nay, the crimes of the minister are\nfirst employed to plunder the people, and afterwards punished to fill the\ncoffers of the sovereign.\n\nIn this total discontinuance of every art that relates to just government\nand national policy, it is remarkable, that even the trade of the soldier\nis itself great neglected. Distrust and jealousy, on the part of the\nprince, come in aid of his ignorance and incapacity; and these causes\noperating together, serve to destroy the very foundation on which his power\nis established. Any undisciplined rout of armed men passes for an army,\nwhilst a weak, dispersed, and unarmed people are sacrificed to military\ndisorder, or exposed to depredation on the frontier from an enemy, whom the\ndesire of spoil, or the hopes of conquest, may have drawn to their\nneighbourhood.\n\nThe Romans extended their empire till they left no polished nation to be\nsubdued, and found a frontier which was every where surrounded by fierce\nand barbarous tribes; they even pierced through uncultivated deserts, in\norder to remove to a greater distance the molestation of such troublesome\nneighbours, and in order to possess the avenues through which they feared\ntheir attacks. But this policy put the finishing hand to the internal\ncorruption of the state. A few years of tranquillity were sufficient to\nmake even the government forget its danger; and, in the cultivated\nprovince, prepared for the enemy a tempting prize and an easy victory.\n\nWhen by the conquest and annexation of every rich and cultivated province,\nthe measure of empire is full, two parties are sufficient to comprehend\nmankind; that of the pacific and the wealthy, who dwell within the pale of\nempire; and that of the poor, the rapacious, and the fierce, who are inured\nto depredation and war. The last bear to the first nearly the same relation\nwhich the wolf and the lion bear to the fold; and they are naturally\nengaged in a state of hostility.\n\nWere despotic empire, meantime, to continue for ever unmolested from\nabroad, while it retains that corruption on which it was founded, it\nappears to have in itself no principle of new life, and presents no hope of\nrestoration to freedom and political vigour. That which the despotical\n_master has sown, cannot quicken unless it die_; it must languish and\nexpire by the effect of its own abuse, before the human spirit can spring\nup anew, or bear those fruits which constitute the honour and the felicity\nof human nature. In times of the greatest debasement, indeed, commotions\nare felt; but very unlike the agitations of a free people: they are either\nthe agonies of nature, under the sufferings to which men are exposed; or\nmere tumults, confined to a few who stand in arms about the prince, and\nwho, by, their conspiracies, assassinations, and murders, serve only to\nplunge the pacific inhabitants still deeper in the horrors of fear or\ndespair. Scattered in the provinces, unarmed, unacquainted with the\nsentiments of union and confederacy, restricted by habit to a wretched\neconomy, and dragging a precarious life on those possessions which the\nextortions of government have left; the people can nowhere, under these\ncircumstances, assume the spirit of a community, nor form any liberal\ncombination for their own defence. The injured may complain; and while he\ncannot obtain the mercy of government, he may implore the commiseration of\nhis fellow subject. But that fellow subject is comforted, that the hand of\noppression has not seized on himself: he studies his interest, or snatches\nhis pleasure, under that degree of safety which obscurity and concealment\nbestow.\n\nThe commercial arts, which seem to require no foundation in the minds of\nmen, but the regard to interest; no encouragement, but the hopes of gain,\nand the secure possession of property, must perish under the precarious\ntenure of slavery, and under the apprehension of danger arising from the\nreputation of wealth. National poverty, however, and the suppression of\ncommerce, are the means by which despotism comes to accomplish its own\ndestruction. Where there are no longer any profits to corrupt, or fears to\ndeter, the charm of dominion is broken, and the naked slave, as awake from\na dream, is astonished to find he is free. When the fence is destroyed, the\nwilds are open, and the herd breaks loose. The pasture of the cultivated\nfield is no longer preferred to that of the desert. The sufferer willingly\nflies where the extortions of government cannot overtake him; where even\nthe timid and the servile may recollect they are men; where the tyrant may\nthreaten, but where he is known to be no more than a fellow creature; where\nhe can take nothing but life, and even this at the hazard of his own.\n\nAgreeably to this description, the vexations of tyranny have overcome, in\nmany parts of the East, the desire of settlement. The inhabitants of a\nvillage quit their habitations, and infest the public ways; those of the\nvalleys fly to the mountains, and, equipt for flight, or possessed of a\nstrong hold, subsist by depredation, and by the war they make on their\nformer masters.\n\nThese disorders conspire with the impositions of government to render the\nremaining settlements still less secure: but while devastation and ruin\nappear on every side, mankind are forced anew upon those confederacies,\nacquire again that personal confidence and vigour, that social attachment,\nthat use of arms, which, in former times, rendered a small tribe the seed\nof a great nation; and which may again enable the emancipated slave to\nbegin the career of civil and commercial arts. When human nature appears in\nthe utmost state of corruption, it has actually begun to reform.\n\nIn this manner, the scenes of human life have been frequently shifted.\nSecurity and presumption forfeit the advantages of prosperity; resolution\nand conduct retrieve the ills of adversity; and mankind while they have\nnothing on which to rely but their virtue, are prepared to gain every\nadvantage; and while they confide most in their good fortune, are most\nexposed to feel its reverse. We are apt to draw these observations into\nrule; and when we are no longer willing to act for our country, we plead,\nin excuse of our own weakness or folly, a supposed fatality in human\naffairs.\n\nThe institutions of men, if not calculated for the preservation of virtue,\nare, indeed, likely to have an end as well as a beginning: but so long as\nthey are effectual to this purpose, they have at all times an equal\nprinciple of life, which nothing but an external force can suppress; no\nnation ever suffered internal decay but from the vice of its members. We\nare sometimes willing to acknowledge this vice in our countrymen; but who\nwas ever willing to acknowledge it in himself? It may be suspected,\nhowever, that we do more than acknowledge it, when we cease to oppose its\neffects, and when we plead a fatality, which, at least, in the breast of\nevery individual, is dependent on himself. Men of real fortitude,\nintegrity, and ability, are well placed in every scene; they reap, in every\ncondition, the principal enjoyments of their nature; they are the happy\ninstruments of Providence employed for the good of mankind; or, if we must\nchange this language, they show, that while they are destined to live, the\nstates they compose are likewise doomed by the fates to survive, and to\nprosper.\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\nVALUABLE WORKS RECENTLY PUBLISHED, BY ANTHONY FINLEY, _Corner of Chesnut\nand Fourth Streets, Philadelphia._\n\nTHE THEORY OF MORAL SENTIMENTS; OR, AN ESSAY\n\nTowards an analysis of the principles by which men naturally judge\nconcerning the conduct and character, first of their neighbours, and\nafterwards of themselves,\n\nTo which is added,\n\n_A Dissertation on the Origin of Languages._ BY ADAM SMITH, LL.D.\nF.R.B. FIRST AMERICAN FROM THE TWELFTH EDINBURGH EDITION.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Extract from \"An Account of the Life and Writings of Dr. Adam Smith, by\nDugald Stewart, F.R.S. Edinburgh.\"_\n\n(Speaking of Dr. S.'s Theory of Moral Sentiments, he says) \"No work,\nundoubtedly, can be mentioned, ancient or modern, which exhibits so\ncomplete a view of those facts, with respect to our moral perception, which\nit is one great object of this branch of science to refer to their general\nlaws; and upon this account, it well deserves the careful study of all\nwhose taste leads them to prosecute similar inquiries. These facts are\nindeed frequently expressed in a language which involves the author's\npeculiar theories; but they are always presented in the most happy and\nbeautiful light; and it is easy for an attentive reader, by stripping them\nof hypothetical terms, to state them to himself with that logical\nprecision, which, in such very difficult disquisitions, can alone conduct\nus with certainty to the truth.\n\n\"It is proper to observe, farther, that, with the theoretical doctrines of\nthe book, there are every where interwoven, with singular taste and\naddress, the purest and most elevated maxims concerning the practical\nconduct of life; and that it abounds throughout with interesting and\ninstructive delineations of characters and manners. A considerable part of\nit too is employed in collateral inquiries, which, upon every hypothesis\nthat can be formed concerning the foundation of morals, are of equal\nimportance. Of this kind is the speculation with respect to the influence\nof fortune on our moral sentiments; and another speculation no less\nvaluable, with respect to the influence of custom and fashion on the same\npart of our constitution.\n\n\"When the subject of this work leads the author to address the imagination\nand the heart: the variety and felicity of his illustrations--the richness\nand fluency of his eloquence--and the skill with which he wins the\nattention and commands the passions of his readers, leave him, among our\nEnglish moralists, without a rival.\"\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS.\n\nPART I.\n\n_Of the Propriety of Action_.\n\nSection I. _Of the Sense of Propriety_.\n\nChap. I. Of Sympathy.\n\nChap. II. Of the Pleasure of Mutual Sympathy.\n\nChap. III. Of the manner in which we judge of the Propriety or Impropriety\nof the Affections of other Men, by their concord or dissonance with our\nown.\n\nChap. IV. The same subject continued.\n\nChap. V. Of the Amiable and Respectable Virtues.\n\n\nSection II. _Of the Degrees of the different Passions which are\nconsistent with Propriety_.\n\nIntroduction.\n\nChap. I. Of the Passions which take their origin from the body.\n\nChap. II. Of those Passions which take their origin from a particular turn\nor habit of the Imagination.\n\nChap. III. Of the unsocial Passions.\n\nChap. IV. Of the social Passions.\n\nChap. V. Of the selfish Passions.\n\n\nSection III. _Of the Effects of Prosperity and Adversity upon the\nJudgment of Mankind with regard to the Propriety of Action; and why it is\nmore easy to obtain their approbation in the one state than in the\nother_.\n\nChap. I. That though our sympathy with sorrow is generally a more lively\nsensation than our sympathy with toy, it commonly falls much more short of\nthe violence of what is naturally felt by the person principally concerned.\n\nChap. II. Of the origin of Ambition, and of the distinction of Ranks.\n\nChap. III. Of the corruption of our Moral Sentiments, which is occasioned\nby this disposition to admire the rich and the great, and to despise or\nneglect persons of poor and mean condition.\n\n\nPART II.\n\n_Of Merit and Demerit; or of the objects of reward and punishment_.\n\nSection I. _Of the Sense of Merit and Demerit_.\n\nIntroduction.\n\nChap. I. That whatever appears to be the proper object of gratitude,\nappears to deserve reward; and that, in the same manner, whatever appears\nto be the proper object of resentment, appears to deserve punishment.\n\nChap. II. Of the proper objects of gratitude and resentment.\n\nChap. III. That where there is no approbation of the conduct of the person\nwho confers the benefit, there is little sympathy with the gratitude of him\nwho receives it: and that on the contrary, where there is no disapprobation\nof the motives of the person who does the mischief, there is no sort of\nsympathy with the resentment of him who suffers it.\n\nChap. IV. Recapitulation of the foregoing chapters.\n\nChap. V. The Analysis of the sense of Merit and Demerit.\n\n\nSECTION II. _Of Justice and Beneficence._\n\nChap. I. Comparison of those two virtues.\n\nChap. II. Of the sense of Justice, of Remorse, and of the consciousness of\nMerit.\n\nChap. III. Of the utility of this constitution of Nature.\n\n\nSECTION III. _Of the Influence of Fortune upon the Sentiments of Mankind,\nwith regard to the Merit or Demerit of Actions._\n\nIntroduction.\n\nChap. I. Of the causes of this influence of Fortune.\n\nChap. II. Of the extent of this influence of Fortune.\n\nChap. III. Of the final cause of this irregularity of Sentiments.\n\n\nPART III. _Of the Foundation our Judgments concerning our own sentiments\nand conduct, and of the sense of Duty._\n\nChap. I. Of the principle of Self-approbation and of Self-disapprobation.\n\nChap. II. Of the love of Praise, and of that of Praise-worthiness; and of\nthe dread of Blame, and that of Blame-worthiness.\n\nChap. III. Of the Influence and Authority of Conscience.\n\nChap. IV. Of the nature of Self-deceit, and of the Origin and Use of\ngeneral Rules.\n\nChap. V. Of the Influence and Authority of the general Rules of Morality,\nand that they are justly regarded as the laws of the Deity.\n\nChap. VI. In what cases the Sense of Duty ought to be the sole principle of\nour conduct; and in what cases it ought to concur with other motives.\n\n\nPART IV. _Of the Effect of Utility upon the Sentiment of Approbation._\n\nChap. I. Of the Beauty which the appearance of Utility bestows upon all the\nproductions of Art, and of the extensive influence of this species of\nBeauty.\n\nChap. II. Of the Beauty which the appearance of Utility bestows upon the\ncharacters and actions of men; and how far the perception of this beauty\nmay be regarded as one of the original principles of approbation.\n\n\nPART V. _Of the Influence of Custom and Fashion upon the Sentiments of\nMoral Approbation and Disapprobation._\n\nChap. I. Of the Influence of Custom and Fashion upon our notions of Beauty\nand Deformity.\n\nChap. II. Of the Influence of Custom and Fashion upon Moral Sentiments.\n\n\nPART VI. _Of the Character of Virtue._\n\nIntroduction. Section I. _Of the Character of the Individual, so far as\nit affects his own Happiness; or of Prudence_.\n\nSection II. _Of the Character of the Individual, so far as it can affect\nthe happiness of other People_.\n\nIntroduction.\n\nChap. I. Of the order in which Individuals are recommended by nature to our\ncare and attention.\n\nChap. II. Of the order in which Societies are by nature recommended to our\nbeneficence.\n\nChap. III. Of Universal Benevolence.\n\nSection III. _Of Self-Command_.\n\nConclusion of the Sixth Part.\n\n\nPART VII.\n\n_Of Systems of Moral Philosophy_.\n\nSection I. _Of the questions which ought to be examined in a Theory of\nMoral Sentiments_.\n\n\nSection II. _Of the different Accounts which have been given of the\nnature of Virtue_.\n\nIntroduction.\n\nChap. I. Of those systems which make Virtue consist in propriety.\n\nChap. II. Of those systems which make Virtue consist in prudence.\n\nChap. III. Of those systems which make Virtue consist in benevolence.\n\nChap. IV. Of licentious Systems.\n\n\nSection III. _Of the different Systems which have been formed concerning\nthe Principle of Approbation_.\n\nIntroduction.\n\nChap. I. Of those systems which deduce the principle of Approbation from\nSelf-love.\n\nChap. II. Of those systems which make Reason the principle of Approbation.\n\nChap. III. Of those systems which make Sentiment the principle of\nApprobation.\n\n\nSection IV. _Of the manner in which different Authors have treated of the\nPractical Rules of Morality_.\n\n_Considerations concerning the first Formation of Languages, &c._\n\n\n_An Epitome of Ancient Geography_, Sacred and Profane, being an\nabridgment of D'Anville's Geography, with improvements, from various other\nauthors; by which the omissions of D'Anville are supplied, and his errors\ncorrected. Accompanied with an account of the origin and migration of\nancient nations.--By Robert Mayo, M. D. author of \"A New System of\nMythology,\" &c. 150 cents.\n\n_A Classical Atlas_, elegantly coloured, containing a series of Select\nMaps from _Wilkinson's Atlas Classica_, and _Le Sage's_\n\n_Historical Atlas_, for the use of those studying Ancient History and\nGeography in the seminaries in the United States--folio, bound, $5.\n\n_Letters to a Young Lady_, on a variety of Useful Subjects; calculated\nto improve the heart, to form the manners, and to enlighten the\nunderstanding. By the Rev. John Bennett. _Seventh_ American edition,\non fine paper, with plates. Various bindings, from $1.25 to 3.50.\n\n_Scientific Dialogues_, intended for the instruction and entertainment\nof Young People: in which the first principles of Natural and Experimental\nPhilosophy are fully explained. By the Rev. J. Joyce. Third edition, 3\nvols. Plates. $3.\n\n_A Dictionary of Select and Popular Quotations_, which are in constant\nuse; taken from the Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, and Greek languages,\n(also _including a complete collection of Law Maxims_) translated into\nEnglish, with illustrations, historical and idiomatic. Third American\nedition, corrected, with copious additions. $1.50.\n\n_The Advantage and Necessity of the Christian Revelation_, shewn from\nthe state of Religion in the Ancient Heathen world, &c. By John Leland, D.\nD. Author of a \"View of the Deistical Writers,\" 2 vols. 8vo. $6.50.\n\n_Memoirs and Remains_ of the late Rev. Charles Buck, author of \"A\nTheological Dictionary,\" \"Miscellanies,\" &c. containing copious extracts\nfrom his Diary, and interesting letters to his friends; interspersed with\nvarious observations explanatory and illustrative Of his character and\nworks. By John Styles, D. D. Boards, $1.25, bound $1.50.\n\n_Gethsemane_, or Thoughts on the Sufferings of Christ. By the author\nof the \"Guide to Domestic Happiness,\" and \"The Refuge.\" Boards 88 cents,\nbound, $1.12-1/2.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA. FINLEY HAS CONSTANTLY FOR SALE, A VALUABLE COLLECTION OF Theological\nWorks, Family Bibles, &c.\n\nAmong which are,\n\nThe entire works of Dr. Isaac Watts, 6 vols. 4to. The same, 9 vols. 8vo.\nRev. Dr. Lardner's works, 5 vols. 4to. Hederici Lexicon, 4to. Parkhurst's\nGreek and Hebrew Lexicons. Turretteni (J. A.) Opera Omnia, 3 vols. 4to.\nClerk's (J.) Paraphrase and Philological, Commentary, on the Five Books of\nMoses, 4 vols. folio. Dr. Guyse's Paraphrase of the New Testament, 6 vols.\n8vo. Massilon's Sermons, 2 vols. 8vo.\n\nDubois's Account of the Religion, Customs, &c. &c. of the people of India,\n2 vols. 8vo.\n\nScott's Family Bibles, Quarto and Octavo. Henry's Commentary, 6 vols. 4to.\n&c. &c.\n\n_Anatomical Engravings, by Charles and John Bell, viz._\n\n_Charles Bell's Engravings of the Arteries_, illustrating the Anatomy\nof the Human Body, and serving as an introduction to the Surgery of the\nArteries. Elegantly printed in _Royal_ 8vo. Twelve coloured Plates,\nwith copious letter-press explanations, references to Bell's and Wistar's\nAnatomy, &c.--Second improved American edition, handsomely bound. Price $6.\n\n_John Bell's Engravings of the Bones, Muscles and Joints_, in two\nparts--\n\nPart 1. Containing Engravings of the Bones, 16 Plates, 4to. with\nexplanations. Bound $6 50.\n\nPart 2.--Engravings of the Muscles and Joints, 17 Plates, 4to. with\nexplanations. Bound $7.\n\n_The two parts may be had bound together_. Price $12.\n\n_Charles Bell's Series of Engravings_, explaining the course of the\n_Nerves_, containing nine large and very elegant plates, with copious\nexplanations, 4to. Extra boards $6--handsomely bound $6 50.\n\nThese several volumes of _Engravings_ by the Messrs. Bell, which are\nso highly estimated in Great Britain, are also strongly recommended by\nprofessional gentlemen throughout the Union. They form a system of Anatomy,\nin themselves, and must be considered as a very important addition to every\nMedical Library.\n\n_The Nurse's Guide and Family Assistant_, containing friendly cautions\nto the heads of families and others, very necessary to be observed in order\nto preserve health and long life; with ample directions to Nurses who\nattend the sick, women in childbed, &c. &c. By Robert Wallace Johnson, M.\nD. Second American edition corrected and improved, $1.\n\n_Medical Inquiries and Observations, &c_. by Dr. Benjamin Rush, 5th\nedition, 2 vols. $7.\n\n_Zoonomia_, by Dr. Darwin, 4th edition, 2 vols. $7.\n\nTogether with\n\nAll the Greek and Latin Classics; and every description of French and\nEnglish\n\nSCHOOL BOOKS,\n\nthat are used in the various Seminaries in this country.\n\nLibrary Companies, Teachers and others supplied on very liberal terms.","title":"An Essay on the History of Civil Society, Eighth Edition","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":107430}